About Last Night
by scarylolita
Summary: Kenny thinks it will be a good idea to start a no strings attached hook up session with one of his friends … However, things don't go as smooth as he hopes and he is forced to experience a roller coaster of suppressed emotions in the form of Craig Tucker. Slash.
1. My latest conquest

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Hey, look. More Kenny and Craig! I promise this won't be as tragic as "Concrete Kenny" was. A couple similar themes, though, per usual. **

**All in Kenny's POV, yet again.**

* * *

"What the hell is that?" I ask Craig sourly after I spot what's dangling from between his lips.

The lunch bell just rang and this is usually where he loiters – the cement stairway behind the school. I guess it's where most of the pot heads and jack asses loiter, but today it's just me and Craig here.

He greets me with a middle finger before answering the question. "A cigarette," he states in that nasally voice after removing it from his mouth.

"Yeah… but why?"

"I've taken up smoking," he says, flicking ash onto the ground.

"Why?" I ask again, frowning. To be honest, I don't want him to smoke. Unlike me, he only has one life. He should be careful with it.

"Jesus Christ, McCormick, fuck off," he deadpans. "I'm not in the mood for 20 questions today."

I just sit down beside him. "Did something happen?" I ask.

"No."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not fucking lying." He says it evenly, but somehow I can tell he's angry.

"You're going to destroy your body."

"I don't care."

Bingo.

Something definitely happened… or is happening. However, I won't pry. I guess, in the end, it's not my place. We aren't really the closest of friends and I don't really want to get on his bad side. I have a feeling Craig's the type of guy who could make people feel like shit about themselves easily.

I pat his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. He tosses the cigarette onto the ground and slumps forward slightly, letting out a soft sigh.

We're eighteen now and there are only a few more months of grade twelve left. I hate thinking about it. It makes me feel like shit. What am I going to do once I'm out of school? What _can_ I do?

"Craig?"

"What?"

"Where do you think you'll be this time next year?"

"I don't know," he mumbles.

"Haven't you ever thought about it?"

"Not really."

I'm not all that surprised. He never plans ahead. He's very much a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Well, as long as things stay boring and he doesn't have to overexert himself, that is.

It's just as he always says – _"Nice and boring, just the way I like it." _

"Why not?" I ask. "Graduation is getting close."

"Fuck, stop pissing me off or I'll beat you up," he threatens. "Actually, knowing how depraved you are, you'd probably like it."

I just laugh.

It wouldn't be the first time we fought.

"Whatever," I say, standing up. "You coming to Clyde's tonight?"

He closes his eyes. "Maybe…"

And I know that maybe usually means yes. Clyde is Craig's best friend, and Clyde always makes him come to these kinds of events. He thinks it's good for Craig to be social, not that he makes an effort. He just ends up acting sour and constipated. Tonight probably won't be any different.

"Okay," I nod. "I'm going home."

"We still have two classes after lunch."

"I don't give a shit and neither do you," I snort, walking off.

It's strangely sunny outside today. I think the sun is reflecting off of the melting snow, making it seem even brighter.

Summer will be here soon.

* * *

I'm still not sure how I feel about Craig Tucker. He's a pretty odd guy, but we've been cool since I gave him a tattoo a few months ago. It was funny.

"Ugh, fuck…" Craig mumbled before letting out a pained groan.

"Dude, stop bitching," I laughed at him while trying to hold my concentration.

Oh, man. I got a kick out of seeing Craig in pain. He's usually so stoic.

There isn't a tattoo shop in South Park. There's one in Denver, but even if it was closer, most kids don't have the money to spend on tattoos and travelling. This is how I make my pocket money. Stick and poke. DIY tattooing. It's probably not smart or safe, but this is South Park after all and no one here really gives a damn. Art is my best subject, though that doesn't mean I take it seriously. I don't take much seriously, especially when it comes to school.

"You should let me draw a dick on you," I snickered to Craig, who was lying on my mattress. I had his arm on my lap as I did my thing.

"No way," he mumbled, eyes closed.

"How do you know that's not what I'm doing right now?"

"If it is, I'll kill you," he asked, cracking open an eye and looking up at me.

"Then I'll come back. Killing me won't last long, unlike that tattoo."

He just snorted. "Whatever. You wouldn't do that."

And it's true. I wouldn't… But nonetheless I just smiled and asked, "How do you know that?"

"Because you're a little different than the shit heads you hang out with."

"Well, I'll take that as a form of flattery," I snickered.

I ended up writing "FUCK YOU" on his forearm in small, tidy print. I think he thought that was funny, not that he expressed any such amusement. I was the one who propositioned him and he wasn't picky. All he told me is that he wanted something small. I decided the rest. I'm still surprised he trusted me enough to decide something that would stay on his body forever.

The next time, he pulled the neck of his sweatshirt down and I drew a little bird on his right shoulder. It was his choice. I asked him if it symbolized anything, but he ignored me. I guess I'll never know.

Yeah, Craig is an interesting guy, that's for sure.

Once I arrive home, I spot my mother on the sofa smoking pot. I kick off my sneakers and settle down on the sofa, putting my arm around her.

"How's my boy today?" she asks hoarsely.

"Fine, Ma," I say.

She hands me the joint and I take a long drag, holding it in before blowing it out.

"Where's Dad?" I wonder, passing the joint back to her.

"Who the hell cares," she sighs.

I do, but I don't say that.

"Why aren't you still at school?" she asks.

"Didn't feel like staying."

"You should," she continues. "School is important."

"No, it's not. I hate that fucking place. We don't learn anything useful in the real world. All they teach us is that humanity is expendable. All we're taught is how to live in a crap society that will treat us like shit. We're born, we go to elementary school, middle school, high school, and then we graduate. Once it feels like we're finally done, oh wait! There is more school. That is, if you want to make something of yourself. If not, then you can flip burgers all your damn life. I hate it… I don't want to be a part of it. People say this is the land of the free… it makes me fucking laugh. We're not free. We're brainwashed."

"I know, baby…" she says, "but if you don't go to school, you'll just end up like me and your father."

I don't respond. I know it's true, yet I don't want to admit it because I want so desperately to believe I can find my own freedom in this shitty world. It puts me in a pretty damn sour mood.

"So, how's your love life?" she asks, changing the subject when I don't answer.

"Shitty," I snort.

"You'll find someone nice soon enough."

"Maybe," I shrug, feigning an expression that shows ultimate apathy.

"How are your friends?" she asks.

"They're all right. Stan and Wendy are still happy together. She likes to drag him into all her theater shit. He was in the school play with her, which was hilarious. He was so not into it. He can't say no to her, though. That probably won't change. Eric is still manipulating girls into sleeping with him because he's an asshole… and Kyle has been taking college level courses which means he gets college level action."

"Ohoh."

Kyle takes classes at the local university, even though he's still only in year twelve. It's because he's smart. I find the whole thing funny because Kyle used to be so reserved. Well, he still is. He just keeps the things he does in bed a secret. Or, he tries. Eric has a big mouth. That's the only reason I know about it.

I guess university really does change people.

While Kyle is off at frat parties, the rest of us are still screwing around at Clyde's when his Dad goes away. Which, might I add, is quite often since his wife died. It's like he can't spend time around Clyde because of it. Poor fucker.

There have been too many times where we knew we were all going to end up puking but we thought we may as well enjoy the night until we did. None of us are smart drinkers.

Hangovers really suck.

I once got hung over for three days. I couldn't bring myself to touch alcohol for a few months after that. I puked all over Clyde's house and Eric had to drag my stupid ass outside.

"Any plans tonight?" Ma asks.

"Probably heading out to a party," I tell her.

Weekends always mean parties. If you don't go, you'll be left out on Monday when everyone is talking about what went down.

Kyle doesn't care about that sort of thing because he always has better stories to tell.

"Be careful."

"I will."

I kiss her cheek before standing and wandering upstairs to my bedroom.

People would probably think it's weird if they knew, but I'm really close to my mom. Yeah, she does some bad things and she has some issues, but it's the same for everyone.

No one has the right to tell her she's a bad mother.

* * *

I'm drunk before I even get to Clyde's house and I'll probably end up getting my dick out at some point in the night.

When I arrive at the party, I see Red trying to get Craig to dance with her.

"Craaaaig," I slur his name.

"What?" he asks, turning to face me. His pupils are gigantic.

"Hey, what're you on?" I ask, squinting as I stare at him.

"Ecstasy."

I chuckle, turning to Red. "And he _still_ won't dance?"

"I know! That's what I'm saying!" she chuckles. She playfully nudges him in the side before wandering off, probably to find someone who _will_ dance with her.

"Who'd you get it from?" I ask once she's gone.

"Bill," he mumbles.

"Did he make you pay?"

"Five."

"That's good," I say.

"Don't bother going to him and asking for any," Craig says, "by the looks of things, you're fucked up enough."

"Oh, Craig," I simper dramatically as I put a hand to my chest. "You care? I'm so touched."

He makes a face at me, wrinkling his nose.

"I wasn't going to anyway, I was just curious," I tell him. For the most part, I like to avoid the hard stuff.

"All right."

"So, what's up?" I ask.

"I need to find Clyde," he announces.

"Why?"

"Because I want to fix something," he mumbles before leaving me standing alone.

I wonder what he wants to fix… I shrug it off for now and I begin to wander around, looking for a friendly face.

"Kenny!" I hear.

I turn around, spotting Bebe.

"Hello, princess," I grin.

"You look like you're feeling good," she chuckles. "Have you seen Clyde?"

I shake my head. "Craig was looking for him, too."

"Do you know why?" she asks, tilting her head to the side before scanning the crowd.

"Nope," I shrug. "He wouldn't tell me. He was being vague and weird."

"Oh, hey," she points to the corner of the room. "There they are!"

I turn, following her gaze.

Craig has his arms wrapped around himself and looks thoroughly uncomfortable, which I find strange. Usually it's hard to read Craig. He keeps his expression and his body language completely neutral.

Clyde looks uncharacteristically serious before he pulls Craig into a big hug, slapping him on the back multiple times.

"I wonder what that's about," Bebe says, voicing my own thoughts.

"Same," I mumble, raising an eyebrow at the scene.

Bebe links arms with me and drags me towards them. "Everything okay, you guys?" she asks.

"Yep," Clyde smiles.

Craig just looks apathetic, per usual.

"Come on," Bebe says, shaking Craig by the shoulders. "Smile, for once in your life! This is a party!"

He removes her hands and walks away without another word.

Bebe gives me a sour look. "He's such an asshole."

"That's just part of his personality," I snort, in a light attempt to stick up for him.

* * *

Later on in the night, I leave the house to gets some fresh air only to find Craig sitting on the front porch.

"You okay?" I ask, sitting beside him.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he holds up his middle finger.

"I see," I snort, sarcastically remarking, "Everything makes sense now."

He lets his hand fall.

"Jeez… you're dull even when you're on ecstasy," I tell him. "When I pop E I want to touch everyone and everything."

"You're like that even when you're sober," he says, breaking his silence.

"Guess that's true," I admit. "So, what was going on with Clyde?"

"Nothing."

"Clearly it wasn't _nothing_."

"Okay, let me rephrase that," he starts, "It's none of your business."

"So?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?" I ask. "I prolly won't remember it tomorrow anyway…"

That's a lie. I'm hardly that kind of drunk. I'm just curious.

"It was hard enough to get out the first time. I don't want to say it again."

"You're lame," I say, closing my eyes. "Lame, lame, laaame."

We're both quiet for a long time until Craig finally opens his mouth again –

"I'm gay."

Wait… what?

Wow!

I don't say anything for a couple minutes. I can't quite bring myself to. I mean… what am I supposed to tell him?

"Fucking say something," he mumbles.

"Well…" I pause, glancing at him.

"Well?"

"It's good to know you're still capable of feeling things," I say insensitively. "Namely romance."

"Fuck you, McCormick. Fuck you."

"Sorry," I chuckle. That was probably the wrong thing to say. Now is not the time for jokes.

"I told Clyde I was into him." his cheeks are pink and I'm not sure whether it's because he's embarrassed or whether he's just feeling warm because of the drugs he took. I'm going to go ahead and say it's the drugs. Craig _blushing_? That would be rich. "I mean…" he starts again, "he's straight… and I knew it, but still… it's like, I had to say it… I had to try. He drove me home from school earlier… so I dropped the bomb before getting out of the car. I think he was at a loss for words, so I left before he said anything."

I'm surprised Craig could be that bold.

"Yeah," I say softly and I know if Craig wasn't high on hard drugs he wouldn't dare tell me any of this shit. "But you're both cool now?"

"Yeah…"

"That's good."

"It sucks," he continues, rubbing his hands down his face. "This always fucking happens to me…"

"Really?"

"Of course I had to be born a fucking fag," he says tersely.

"Come on, dude, don't call yourself that…"

"I'm always falling for people who are the wrong sexuality."

"Yeah, that's rough…"

"Tweek is asexual," he explains. "He didn't want a relationship."

"Oh," I say.

"I confessed to him when we were younger and it kind of drove us apart… Clyde promised that wouldn't happen this time."

"It probably won't. Clyde's a pretty easy going guy."

"I know…"

He grinds his teeth together.

"Don't do that," I tell him.

"I can't help it."

"That's why you shouldn't do pills," I say.

"Advice from a drunk means nothing."

I just laugh. "Really, though… Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Be honest, for once in your fucking life."

"I feel like shit," he says, closing his eyes.

I put my arm around him and pull him towards me. He doesn't protest. Instead, he leans his head on my shoulder.

It's probably the fact that he's high and I'm drunk, but I don't mind the contact. It's the least I can do for him. If I were in his position, I'd probably be crying by now… but I've learned there are a few things that Craig Tucker does not do and those things are laughing, crying, and saying he's sorry.

"Want to leave?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says, moving away from me and standing up.

"Okay, let's go. You can crash at my place," I offer, following him to his feet. It'd probably be a good idea for us both to get out of here. He's probably suppressing emotions and I'm just trying hard not to make a dumbass of myself like always.

"Sure."

* * *

"You okay?" I ask once we're walking up my driveway.

"Yeah."

"I don't mean like… emotionally. I mean, physically… You're sweating a bit."

He brings his hand up and places it on his sticky forehead. "Oh."

My mother greets us once we're inside, asking us how the party went.

"It was okay," I shrug. "Craig had a little too much fun, though."

But that's a bit of a lie. I doubt Craig Tucker knows what fun is.

"Oh?" she asks, glancing at him. "He looks a little sick."

"Yeah," I snort, dragging him upstairs.

"I feel really warm," he announces, pressing his hands to his cheeks.

"I'll run a cold bath," I tell him as we enter the small washroom. "You can sit in it for a bit."

He flops onto the toilet seat lid and immediately shrugs out of his sweater and peels off his -shirt, letting out a sound of relief.

"Heh… it's funny. Usually I'm the one in your position. I guess the roles have been reversed tonight," I say, turning the tap on and filling the tub.

"Stop talking," he deadpans, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Gonna get naked for me?" I ask, spotting him from the corner of my eye.

"Shut up."

I just chuckle, running back downstairs to get a glass of water for him to sip on.

Once I return, he's already naked and sitting in the bath.

This is the first time I've seen him without clothing on and honestly, as much as I like a sweet pair of tits, I can appreciate a good looking guy. Craig Tucker is definitely a good looking guy. Black hair, pale skin, and always tired looking. Somehow, it works for him.

"I feel like a fucking baby," he states as I try not to check him out.

"It's not that big of a deal," I say, handing him the glass of water. "In the few months we've been friends, you've seen me in a way worse state than this."

"I know," he murmurs, taking a sip of the water.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume you didn't stay hydrated today," I say. "The long walk probably made it worse."

"I forgot," he admits, splashing water on his face.

"Understandable," I shrug. "Oh, well. This kinda shit happens all the time."

"Not to me."

"There's a first for everything." Plus, I have a feeling he was a little emotionally preoccupied.

"Clearly," he says dryly before standing up.

This time, I can't help but check him out, but as soon as I do I wish I didn't.

"Dude… Craig…" I frown, spotting the cuts on his stomach. "What the effing fuck?"

"What?" he asks, staring down at himself. "Oh…" He doesn't look embarrassed or shy. He looks the way he always does, but for some reason, I feel like I can read his thoughts.

"I won't ask," I whisper, handing him a towel. I guess Craig is a little more fucked up than I thought. I now understand why he always changes in the bathroom stall after gym class.

He takes the towel without a word and begins to dry himself off.

"You can borrow some of my clothes," I offer as we walk out into the hallway and into my room. I give him a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. We're the same height, so they'll fit him fine. "Am I getting the silent treatment?" I ask, crossing my arms as he slips them on.

He doesn't answer me until he's fully dressed. "No," he says, sitting down on my mattress.

I flop down next to him.

I've never had a bed. I've only ever had this damn mattress. I won't complain, though. It's more than some people have, right?

Craig doesn't say anything else, but he's awake. I can practically hear him thinking. The digital clock on the floor next to the mattress reads 11:27 PM and the night is still young.

I'd like to know what it is Craig is thinking about, but I know he wouldn't tell me even if I asked. No one gets to know what Craig Tucker thinks about. The only person allowed in Craig's head is Craig himself.

"This is boring," I say, feeling restless as I stick my hand down my pants. "We should do something."

"Like?"

"Let's have sex."

"What," he mumbles, and it isn't quite a question.

"Y'knooow," I shrug nonchalantly.

"Your family is home, you drunk, horny bastard."

"Only my mom and it's not like she gives two shits what we do."

Honestly, my father is the one we'd have to worry about. He insists he isn't homophobic, yet he'd still bust a nut if he knew one of his sons was screwing a dude. Then again, as long as I'm on top, maybe it doesn't matter.

God, I hate that kind of mentality.

"Why would you want to?"

"It'll give us something to do to pass the time. It's still pretty early."

"I'm not a girl… I'm a guy, and a fucking ugly one."

"I don't care… and no you're not," I say.

"You just want somewhere to stick your dick," he turns to look at me.

"Yeah," I snort. "So, what?"

"Just because I'm gay, it doesn't mean I'm desperate."

I just smile.

After a brief pause, Craig murmurs, "Fine."

God, I'm so terrible. It makes me sick, but this is how I get what I want… and maybe it's wrong of me. No, I know it's wrong of me. Craig is high and even though he'd never admit it, I think he's a little lonely, too. That's the only reason he's saying yes.

"What the fuck does it matter anymore?" he asks rhetorically, sounding mentally exhausted. "You already saw what I keep hidden… Not even Clyde knows about that."

"Doesn't it suck to keep secrets?" I ask. "I could never keep secrets."

He rolls his eyes.

"Why do you do it to yourself?"

"I thought you said you weren't going to ask."

"Sorry," I shrug. "Curiosity. This is the first time I've seen that kind of thing."

"It's one or the other."

"Huh?"

"We can talk, or we can fuck," he says, "but we can't do both."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"Fine," I pout.

"So, what will it be?"

"What do _you_ want to do?" I ask.

"I don't want to talk," he states in that monotone voice.

"Then we don't have to."

He begins taking off the clothing he put on mere minutes ago, and I follow.

"You popped pills tonight, gonna be able to get it up?" I ask with a little smirk.

"Yes," he states tersely. "Are you?"

"Of course. I'm immune to alcohol's negative effects."

"That's fucking funny," he states, settling on his knees and resting his cheek on the mattress, "and not true at all."

I'd like to do missionary so I can look at him the whole time. I think it'd be fun to see Craig's expressions, but that probably isn't going to fly with Mr. _I'm Ugly_. Nonetheless, face down ass up is good, too.

He's quiet at first. His body is rigid and I'm trying hard to get him to relax.

"You okay?" I ask, pausing and placing a hand on the small of his back.

"Yeah," he says evenly.

So I begin to move, but slowly.

Still, he's quiet, only allowing soft panting noises to escape. Either way, it's music to my fucking ears. It's always encouraging to get a response from the person beneath you.

I guess I'm not surprised, though. It isn't like I expected him to be a screamer. Wouldn't that have been something completely unexpected? It's unimaginable.

Ah, I'm an asshole.

I'll probably regret this once I'm sober.


	2. A hypothetical situation

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thank you for follows and reviews :)**

* * *

The following morning I wake up with an impressively painful headache. I let out a groan and I get out of bed to put on some clothes, only to notice Craig. He is already dressed in the t-shirt and sweats I gave him last night.

"Sleep okay?" I ask.

"I have a hard time sleeping in beds that aren't my own," he states, not quite looking at me.

"I see," I murmur.

He wanders towards the door without another word.

"Going home?" I ask, pulling on a pair of pajama pants.

"Yeah," he says. "I'll give you back your clothes on Monday."

"No rush."

I walk him out. We don't mention last night. We don't kiss goodbye, or any of that shit because I guess that wasn't what this was… It was a one-time thing. It was a stupid thing I initiated because I'm, as he says, a horny drunk bastard.

I should probably stop playing with people like this.

"Hey," he says before leaving.

"Hm?"

"Don't tell anyone at school that I'm a fag."

"Yeah, Craig… I won't."

I let out a sigh, shutting the door.

"What was all that?" my mom asks.

"Craig is gay," I say without hesitance.

"Really?" she asks. "If I had to pick one of your friends who I thought would be gay… it wouldn't've been Craig."

"I know, right?" I snort. "For curiosity's safe, who would it have been?"

"That boy Kyle."

"Well… he ain't the straightest guy around either, that's for sure."

She just chuckles, walking back into the living room and flopping gracelessly onto the sofa.

"We kind of… hooked up," I state as I follow her. Every time I do something stupid, I feel the need to vent about it. It makes me feel a little better.

"Jesus Christ," she sounds surprised, and I guess that means she didn't hear any of it. I'm kinda glad about that. Talk about awkward. "How the hell'd that happen?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I was drunk and he was high on ecstasy. The fuckin' love drug."

And maybe the only reason he decided to pop pills last night was to make the conversation with Clyde a little easier. He probably didn't plan on the night going where it went. Honestly, I've never fucked a guy before. The thought has crossed my mind, sure. I'm sure most people have gay thoughts every so often… but I didn't expect to really enjoy it.

Mom nods sympathetic.

"It was fun… Maybe because it was different."

"I see," she chuckles again, looking thoroughly amused by my plight.

"I'm not gay, though," I insist.

"Okay," she says, sounding completely unconvinced.

"I'm not!" I repeat. "Seriously."

"Okay," she says again before asking, "How's your head? Are you hung over?"

"Yeah," I shrug. "It hurts, but I guess it's tolerable."

"That's good."

"Hey, where's Kevin?" I wonder aloud. "I haven't seen him in like a week."

"Who the hell knows," she sighs. "He's just like your father… he comes and goes when he pleases."

It's true. Ever since dropping out of school, Kevin has been bouncing around. He's been arrested a few times, too. Mostly drug stuff. He had an assault charge as well, which is all the more unsettling. I prefer that he stays away from here.

"And Karen?" I ask.

"She's at a sleepover," Mom says. "She'll be home later on."

"Good," I murmur. I haven't seen her in a couple days. I think she likes to be away from here. I don't blame her for that.

* * *

I hang out with my mom most of Saturday, and on Sunday I scramble to do a homework assignment that I forgot about - an English essay on a book I didn't even bother to read. Oh, well. Hopefully a quick review on internet was enough to get me a passing grade.

On Monday, Kyle brags that he was finished a week before the damn thing was due.

"Tsk," I mope, "smart asshole."

"Kyle helped me with mine," Stan announces. By that, he probably means that Kyle ended up doing Stan's essay for him.

Before class starts, Craig finds me at my locker and tosses a plastic bag at me.

"What's this?" I ask, catching it.

"Your clothes," he says. "I washed them."

"Oh, thanks. You didn't have to do that," I tell him as I peek inside.

He simply shrugs before walking off.

Ah, man.

I wonder if things will be awkward from now on.

"Why did Craig have your shit?" Eric asks.

"He crashed at my place on the weekend and borrowed some of my clothes," I say.

"I didn't think you guys hung around each other outside of school."

"We don't really… mostly just at parties and sometimes during our free periods, since we have our free at the same time."

"What happened on the weekend, then?" he pries.

"I hardly remember," I chuckle. Sure, it's a bit of a lie, but Eric doesn't need to know the details.

* * *

Today, second block is my free and I go find Craig in his usual spot behind the school.

"Hey," I say.

He doesn't reply, instead, he flips me off.

"Awesome," I snort. As I sit down on the stairwell next to him, he pulls out a cigarette, lighting it.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Fine," he says, exhaling. Vague answers, per usual. I shouldn't expect anything less, even if we've fucked. To him, it probably doesn't even matter.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, tapping the cigarette and watching the ash fall.

When he says nothing more, I lean forward and briefly press my lips to his. When I draw back he lifts an eyebrow and asks, "What was that for?"

"Well," I start, "We didn't kiss the other night."

"So? It wasn't that kind of experience."

"What kind of experience?"

"Romantic," he specifies. "That shit makes me want to puke."

"Same… but I think it's disrespectful to have sex with someone and not even kiss them, no matter who they are."

"Oh," he says. "So, you're that kind of guy."

"I guess so."

"Then you must have kissed a lot of mouths."

"I guess so," I say again. "Haven't you?"

He doesn't answer.

I feel like Craig is the kind of person who, deep down, has a lot of love to give, but no one to accept it. Maybe that's why he's such a dick. Then again, maybe I'm completely wrong. That's such a childishly optimistic way of analyzing Craig Tucker. Maybe I feel like I know him a little bit better than I really do. I think I feel that way about most people. Craig is the kind of guy who doesn't let people get to know him.

"Is it just me," I start, "or are things a little tense?"

"It's just you," he insists.

"All right…" I pause, "Er… anyway, I'll see you later."

"Yeah, whatever."

I walk away, returning to the front of the school. I debate on leaving early again, but I decide against it and go back inside. I wonder if that's what Craig is like when he's angry, or maybe I was the one making things awkward by asking questions.

I feel like I'm looking at this too deeply. I've never been in this kind of situation before. I just knew if I kept hooking up with schoolmates it'd end up biting me in the ass someday. Shit.

* * *

After school, I walk home with Kyle. "So what's up?" he asks expectantly.

"Nothin'," I shrug.

"Kenny," he laughs, "don't lie. I've known you for a long time and by now I know you well enough to see when something is bothering you. Don't try to hide it."

"Okay," I snicker, "you caught me."

"So what is it? Is everything okay?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I mean…" I pause, trying to collect my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Hm…" I murmur. "Okay, so, you're gay, right?"

"Right…"

"Okay, so, hypothetically speaking, say I was bored …"

"Okay…"

"… And say I had sex with a _male_ friend to pass the time."

"Right…"

"And say…" I continue, "that I ended up liking it."

"Well, I'd say that you're not as straight as everyone thinks you are and perhaps your constant talk of the female anatomy is your way of compensating for that."

I roll my eyes at his deduction. "I mean, I can appreciate a hot dude, but I've never really found myself wanting to actually have sex with a guy until recently. What if I'm only attracted to this one certain guy?"

"Then he must be pretty god damn special," Kyle laughs.

I laugh along with him.

"Perhaps you're hetero-flexible?" he suggests.

"I like tits," I say, holding out my hands and groping at the air in front of me as if there's an imaginary pair of boobs.

"Trust me, Kenny, I know. I think we all know."

"But it's like…" I pause again, letting out a sound of frustration. "Fuck it, I have no idea anymore."

"I'm going to assume this isn't a hypothetical situation," he says.

"Yeah, it's not," I admit, chuckling.

"Who'd you fuck?"

"I'm not supposed to say."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't want it getting out that he doesn't like girls."

Kyle shrugs. "So, what? Who would I tell? I'm gay, too."

"Craig," I say.

"Wow, really?" he asks, surprised.

I nod.

"Jesus Christ."

"I know, right?" I snort.

"How the hell did you end up sleeping with him of all people?"

"I was drunk and he was high," I murmur.

Kyle wrinkles his nose at the mention of drugs. "Is he okay?"

"I'm not sure… He doesn't talk about anything. So, like… I don't know how I'm supposed to know… you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Kyle says. "Do you think you like him?"

"No way," I laugh. "I don't think I'd be able to handle a relationship with a guy like him. He may act boring, but I have a feeling he'd be high maintenance as fuck. I just liked _doing_ him."

"Oh," he snorts. "Well… see how he feels. If he feels that way, too, then maybe you can be friends with benefits or something?"

I let out a sigh. "I don't know," I groan. "Why does this have to be complicated? It was never complicated before."

"You'll have to figure that all out on your own, Kenny," Kyle tells me.

I cross my arms, feeling whiny and pouty. "That's hard, though."

"Life's hard," he chuckles as we arrive at his house.

"True," I grumble.

"Anyway," Kyle says, nodding towards his house. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep," I wave him off before continuing down the street.

* * *

When I arrive home I watch girl on girl porn and get off the way I usually do. I guess that much hasn't changed. I wonder what makes Craig so damn special. After lazily finishing an assignment, I get up and slump down the stairs. Karen is sitting in the living room doing her own homework.

"Hey," I say.

"Kenny," she smiles.

"How's it going?"

"Good," she says, "apart from this math stuff."

"Ah, yeah, I feel yah," I laugh, sitting next to her. "If you get too stuck, I can always call Kyle over to help you out. He'd be happy to."

"I think I'm okay," she says. "It's not necessarily hard… just dull."

I only nod. Math was always my worst subject and I really would have failed if it wasn't for Kyle. Fortunately, I don't have to take it this year.

"Ruby said Craig spent the night here on the weekend," Karen mentions.

"Oh, yeah," I say. "Craig told her?"

"She probably wouldn't stop nagging him until he told her where he was," she laughs. "You know how Ruby is."

"Yeah," I snort. That girl is more than capable of getting what she wants when she wants it… God, that little shit can be annoying. She's Karen's best friend and that means I see a lot of her and over the years I got to know just how damn annoying she can be. When she wants something, she gets it. Always.

"What did you guys do?" Karen asks.

"I don't know," I shrug. "We went to a party at Clyde's then he crashed here."

"Oh," she says. "Well, I think it's nice that you guys are becoming friends."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiles. "Craig is always so mean, you might be a good influence on him since you're nice."

"Well, as long as he isn't mean to you," I laugh. "We can work on the rest."

"He's not," she laughs along with me. "He doesn't really talk to me. If I say hi, he usually grunts some kind of response."

"Typical Craig."

"I wonder why he's so apathetic," she muses.

"Who knows?" I shrug.

"Sometimes, I wonder why you can be so happy and friendly all the time."

"Why's that?" I ask.

"Because," she smiles softly, "we haven't exactly had the easiest time of things. We've seen a lot of awful things happen in our own household, from Mom's overdoses to Dad's violent behaviour. I'm surprised you aren't more like Craig."

"I know," I murmur. "I just remind myself that I don't want to be like Dad. It wouldn't do any good to make other people feel like shit just because I feel that way sometimes."

Karen nods. "Kevin is the opposite of you. He's like Dad."

"Well, as long as he isn't here, I don't really care what he does with his life."

"Yeah."

"Just as long as he isn't hurting anyone except himself, that is."

"Yeah," she says again.

"What are Craig's parents like?" I ask.

"They're hardly ever home, but they're always polite, in a curt sort of way. To me, at least. To Craig and Ruby it's just an exchange of middle fingers. I think they're a bit neglectful. Ruby and Craig both deal with it differently, though. Ruby is louder."

"Louder?"

"If she wants something, she'll whine about it until her parents get it for her. I think they feel like they have to because they're so absent."

"Oh… What a brat."

Karen shrugs. "She isn't that bad once you get to know her. I'm sure the same could be said about Craig."

"That's true."

"He's quieter than Ruby is. I think he just ignores the fact that his parents exist. He strikes me as spiteful, but deep down, he probably feels bad about it."

"Yeah…" I stand up. "Anyway, I'll leave you to do your math."

"Okay," she sighs, staring down at the pages of numbers and letters.

I ruffle her brown hair before wandering into the kitchen to see if we have any food.


	3. Sinking ships

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**It's my birthday and I should be studying for an exam tomorrow, but I'm procrastinating so here's the next chapter :P **

* * *

During lunch period the following day, I spot Craig taking a book out of his locker. "Hey," I say, approaching him. "Does this mean you're actually planning on going to class this afternoon?"

"I go to class," he states monotonously before relenting, "sometimes…"

I just snicker, wondering how he made it to grade twelve. Well, same goes for me. I don't know how I made it this far either.

"Poor Boy and Craig the Fag," a fresh voice suddenly announces, and I don't even need to turn around to know who it is. "A match made in heaven."

"Come on, Eric," I sigh. "Don't be a dick."

Eric sidles up next to Craig, looking smug.

Craig pushes him away. "Fuck off," he says once Eric is out of his personal bubble.

"Ewww," Eric yells, making a face and backing away from the contact.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask dryly.

"Craig's touching me! He wants my dick!"

"What?" Craig asks, looking somewhat taken aback and it's weird to see him so expressive.

"Craig the fag," he sings, waving his finger around in Craig's face.

Craig's eyebrows draw together. "Call me that again and I'll –"

Before he can finish the sentence, I put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't, dude," I say. "Eric would just sit on you and you'd be down for the count."

"Ay! Don't call me fat, butt-fucker!"

I just laugh off the fitting insult and Craig's face is once again blank. He opens his locker again and shoves the book back inside, brushing past me and heading down the hallway.

"Dude," I sigh, giving Eric an irritated look.

"What?" he asks, holding up his hands innocently. "I was just playing."

"No, you weren't…" I say. I've known Eric long enough to be able to tell when he is kidding around and when he's not.

"Yeah, you're right," he cackles. "I heard you and Kyle talking after school yesterday. So, Craig likes dick up the ass? Specifically, _your_ dick?"

Ah, fuck. "Eric," I let out a sigh. "This is a serious request, okay?"

"Okay…?"

"Please, don't give him shit for this. Just act like you don't know anything… Please. For my sake and not just his."

"Hm," Eric strokes his chin thoughtfully. "This sounds important."

"It is important."

"Then… if I keep my mouth shut… I should get something in return."

"My gratitude?" I offer, knowing it's a really long shot. I don't really have anything else to offer.

"Ugh, Kenny, you're breakin' my balls."

"I'm serious."

"I'm not quite sure it's worth it," he says. "I could either make Craig's life miserable for a while, or I could let the opportunity slip…"

"God, you're such an ass," I say, gritting my teeth.

"I know," he smirks, walking off and leaving me to feel guilty. Jesus Christ. This definitely isn't going to go the way I want it to. Eric is the worst… but then again, I guess I'm a fucking tool as well. I'm the one who broke a promise.

I decide to forgo attending first period. Instead, I find Craig in his usual spot. "Hey," I say.

He doesn't answer. He doesn't even flip me off.

"Sorry," I apologize, sitting down next to him.

"Are you?"

"Yeah."

"What for?"

"Eric knows…" I carefully state before glancing over at Craig.

He rubs a hand across his face, allowing it to settle over his mouth. He lets out a quiet sigh and closes his eyes.

"Are you angry?"

"Do you want to know what I don't understand?" he asks, the question muffled.

"Okay…"

He lets his hand full onto his lap. "Why the fuck would you tell Eric Cartman?"

"I didn't."

"Then how did he know?"

"I told Kyle…" I admit. "Eric just happened to be listening. I didn't know."

"Either way, you did something you said you wouldn't do."

"I know."

"Why Kyle, then?"

"Kyle's gay, too," I tell him.

"And we all know how much shit kids gave him for it."

"I mean… he wasn't about to tell anyone. Besides, it's mostly Eric who stirs the pot."

Craig finally lets his hand fall. "I still don't get why you even brought it up."

"I wanted someone to talk to," I say.

"About me?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"Then why not come to me?"

"You made it kind of hard."

"Tsk," he clicks his tongue.

"Are you mad?"

"No."

"Really?"

"I should be… but somehow, I just don't care. As long as your fat friend stays quiet, it's fine."

And hearing that doesn't surprise me. I guess it would take a hell of a lot to make Craig angry. The thing is, I'm not so sure Eric will stay quiet. With him, you can never tell.

"Well, either way, I'm sorry," I say.

"Okay."

"Do you regret it?" I ask.

"Regret what?"

"What we did."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because, I'm concerned for your wellbeing," I say in a slightly joking tone of voice, though it's sort of the case.

He rolls his eyes at me. "I don't care enough to regret it."

"Then why were you being all weird about it."

Craig stands up. "Enough," he says. "Ask me later."

"Why?"

"I'm not in a sharing mood," he turns around.

"You never are…"

"I'm going home."

"But it's still the morning," I raise an eyebrow.

"I'm not really in the mood to deal with dumbasses today," he says, walking off. "I'm going back to bed."

"See yah," I mumble from my sitting position.

Jeez. What a guy. Now I'm really curious. I don't understand how he can stay quiet like that. For me, one of the worst things is staying quiet. When I feel like shit, I need to talk about it. Once I let it out, I move on. Usually, it's as simple as that. Usually.

* * *

Craig returns at school by lunch time. I spot him sitting with Clyde, Bebe, Nichole and Token in the cafeteria as I enter with Eric. Clyde is all smiley at Craig, same as always. True to his words, nothing has changed.

"What's with that look?" Eric asks.

"What?"

"You're eying Craig."

"No, I'm not," I protest.

"God, you're such a faggot," he laughs as we find Kyle and Stan.

"Hey," Kyle greets us.

"Jew."

"I have a name, you fat fuck," Kyle spits.

Stan lets out an audible sigh. "Here we go again," he murmurs as Eric and Kyle continue to bicker.

I sit down and pull out my sketch book.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Kyle questions, pausing his banter.

"Already ate," I lie.

"Really?" he asks.

"Yeah, I had my free before lunch."

"Kenny…"

"Honest," I say, smiling as I open to my most recent page.

"Okay," Kyle relents. "What are you drawing?"

"Pretty ladies in artful poses," I wink, showing him the nude female figure.

"Typical," Kyle rolls his eyes and Stan just laughs.

* * *

After school, I wander around and try to find Craig, but he's nowhere in sight.

"Where's Craig?" I ask Token.

"Where else but detention?" he laughs, shaking his head.

"What did he do this time?"

"He flipped off a teacher."

"Oh," I chuckle. He does that often. It's like he can't help it. Well, he's been raising his middle finger since we were kids, thanks to his parents. It's probably a reflex now.

"So, hey, you were at Clyde's on the weekend, right?"

"Yeah."

"Was Craig acting a bit off to you?" Token asks.

"I don't know," I lie. "I mean, he was his typical dick self."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

"I tried fixing him up with Red, but he didn't really seem into her," Token shrugs.

"Oh, that's too bad," I say. "She's really cute. I'd happily do her."

He snorts back a laugh. "I bet."

"So, Red's into Craig?"

"Yeah, she has been for a while. I mean, a ton of guys would be thrilled to be with her, but Craig is so uninterested. I feel kind of bad for pushing her to try and socialize with him since he just brushed her off like that."

"Gonna try and hook them up again?"

"Nah. Clyde gently told Red she should just move on after Craig left, so I think she's trying to do that. I guess Clyde knows Craig better than the rest of us… I have no idea what kind of girl he'd be into. Oh, well. I guess we have to let him figure it out. Lesson learned."

"Probably for the best… I think Craig would bring her down. She's pretty peppy and Craig is so not."

"True enough…" Token murmurs, "but I think he at least needs a good lay."

Psh. He already got one. From me. However, I'm definitely not going to say that, so instead I just laugh. "Yeah, he probably hasn't been laid in a while."

"Try never."

You're fucking kidding me…

"What?" I ask, nearly choking on my own spit.

"I'm, like, 98 percent sure Craig's a virgin, dude."

"What?" I ask again. "Oh, my God." Well, he's definitely not a virgin anymore…

"Okay, it's not _that_ shocking," Token chuckles.

I shrug, playing it off. I guess he's right. I mean, if he was struggling with sexual identity issues, he might've been too uncomfortable to go sleeping around with people left and right. Hell, Craig isn't the first virgin I've fucked… but I've never felt this weird about it before. I'm sure I just caught him in a moment of weakness. I think I did and he just doesn't want to admit it out loud. This must be guilt.

"By the way," Token continues, "You should come to my place this weekend."

"What's going down at your place?"

"I'm having a small get together," he winks, and we both know that a _small get together_ means big party.

"Sounds fun," I grin, "Count me in."

* * *

I wait for Craig's detention to be finished. An hour later, he leaves the detention room. "What is it now?" he asks, once he spots be loitering at his locker.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Go ahead," he says, shoving a hefty math textbook in his locker.

"Not here…"

"Why not here?"

"Because it's kind of… not something you'd want me to say at school."

"Oh," he says, closing his locker. He probably understands what I'm referring to.

"So…?"

"You can come over," he offers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…" he begins to walk, gesturing me to follow. I've never been to Craig's house before. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised he's letting me there. He's a private guy and you can always tell a lot about a person by their home. Especially their bedroom.

The walk to the Tucker residence is quiet. Craig doesn't talk, and neither do I. Once we're inside, Ruby is sitting in a modest looking living room with a couple other girls her age.

"Hi, Craig," one of them blushes and Ruby shoots her an exaggeratedly disgusted look.

"Hi," Craig murmurs a greeting before ushering me upstairs.

"Looks like you have an admirer," I snicker.

"Shut up."

His bedroom is so plain. I don't know what I was expecting, but this makes sense. It suits him. Boring beige walls and matching carpet… his bed is covered in blue sheets and there is a wooden nightstand next to it with a lamp. If I didn't know someone was living here, I'd think it was a guest room.

I follow him in, scanning the room further. There's a guinea pig sitting on a dresser and I find myself smiling.

"Is this the infamous Stripe?" I ask, approaching the little rodent.

"Yup," he mumbles, tossing his bag on the floor and taking off his coat.

"Cute."

"Yeah, so why are you here? You wanted to say something…"

"Okay, I have a question."

"Go."

"First you need to promise not to get angry… or offended… or take it the wrong way."

"I can't promise a thing like that if I don't even know what you're going to say," he crosses his arms.

"Fair enough…"

"I have a strong feeling I'm not drunk enough for the conversation that's about to unfold," he says.

I just chuckle. "You don't need to be drunk to talk."

"For people like me, it helps."

"Okay, fine," I sigh. "Are you a virgin?"

"Clearly not…"

"No, I mean, like… were you before we… you know…?" I make a lewd gesture with my hands.

"What?" he deadpans. "What makes you think that?"

"I'm not saying you were bad or anything," I quickly add, waving my hands around. "I just…"

"You just?"

"I was talking to Token," I exhale. "He said you never dated or anything… he's under the impression you're like… virgin city and have this no girls zone up."

Craig scoffs. "Token and Clyde… they both like sticking their noses where they don't belong… Well, at least Clyde stopped."

"They're your friends. They just want you to be happy."

"I'm not unhappy, though. I don't need what they're trying to give me."

"And that is?"

"A girlfriend… A relationship in general."

"Oh."

"I mean… People who look for happiness in relationships are pathetic."

"Yeah," I agree. "It's kind of sad, too… You can't really have a real relationship until you're happy with yourself. Otherwise you won't be able to accept love easily."

I've thought long and hard about shit like this. There are stupid songs about it on the radio. I mean… If you don't love yourself, someone isn't going to swoop in and love you that much more. It's like jumping on a ship, knowing it's about to sink. No one would jump on a sinking ship. It's asking to get hurt. People who look for happiness in other people… They're selfish. I guess I used to be like that, and that's why I can so confidently say that it's such a selfish thing to do.

Craig simply nods, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Anyway," I continue, sitting down next to him, "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asks.

"Because I took your virginity…?"

"Do I honestly look like the type of person to put value on a thing like that?"

"Well, no… but sometimes you can surprise yourself."

"What do you mean by that?"

"People make mistakes. I mean, we've all been there. Lots of people think it'll be a good idea to fuck someone, then they regret it later on. They wish they waited, or whatever…"

"Well, I don't care about things like that," he insists.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says. "Do you?"

"I used to."

"You don't seem like the type."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you act like a whore."

"Thaaanks," I laugh, "but contrary to popular belief, I don't just stick my dick anywhere, even when I'm drunk."

"Good to know," he states, "that makes me feel so fucking special."

I roll my eyes, sensing his sarcasm. "Things were tense earlier, and I know it wasn't just me feeling that."

"Okay?" he shakes his head, "What the hell do you want me to say?"

"So, I was your first…"

"Yup," he leans backwards onto the mattress.

"Really?" I ask, looking down at him.

"Yes, just last week I was a kissless virgin. Don't go around telling people that, though."

Double score for Kenny McCormick. I got the first kiss and the virgin ass.

"So, I was the first person to touch you like that?"

He gives me a dry look. "Is that not what virginity entails?"

I just smile to myself, lying down beside him. "We should do it again," I mention.

"Why?" he closes his eyes.

"It was fun."

"How?" he asks. "Aren't you straight?"

"Most likely, but I can appreciate a hot looking dude."

"You're so depraved."

I just grin at him.

He doesn't say anything for a moment. "Don't tell anyone else."

"I won't."

"I don't need my parents finding out about it."

"Why not?" I ask. "Does it matter?"

"Kind of."

"What the fuck would I even say to them? Sorry Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, I took your son's virginity, it won't happen again?"

"Shut the fuck up," he states, "It's not a fucking joke."

"Okay," I snicker, "Sorry, sorry."

I wonder if Craig _ever_ laughs.


	4. A stern warning from Ruby Gloom

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

* * *

Craig sits up, getting off of the bed and walking towards Stripe's cage.

"What're you doing?" I ask.

"Holding him," he says, opening the roof part and allowing the guinea pig to crawl into his hand before lifting him out. He has a smile on his face as Stripe sits in his hand. It's a small smile, but it's there nonetheless and for some damn reason, part of me is wishing I could get him to smile like that. Wouldn't that be something crazy? God, I sound like such a gay homo.

"You're smiling," I point out before I can stop myself.

He pauses, looking over at me. "Am I not allowed to?"

"No, I've just never seen you smile before," I comment.

He stares back down at Stripe. "Do you have pets?" he asks, carefully petting the little furry head.

"Kind of," I shrug. "There are a lot of stray cats in the poor part of town… they come and go, but they chase away the mice and eat the bugs."

Craig only nods.

"Why do you like animals so much?"

"Don't you?"

"Well, sure," I shrug again. "Everyone likes animals."

"Exactly."

"Okay, yeah… but I mean," I start, "it looks like you love animals more than people."

"A while ago you asked me about my future," he mentions. "I brushed you off."

"Yeah, I remember."

"I want to be a veterinarian."

I nod. "That suits you."

"I don't like people much," he admits. "Animals make better company."

"Why?"

"They don't have annoying opinions. They don't say stupid things. They're so simple. As long as you treat them well, they'll do the same to you. Unless they're scared, of course… but it's in their nature. They act on instinct. People are different. People are the opposite. They're the worst thing on this planet," he says evenly. "They're the reason this damn planet is gonna die."

"Do you care?"

"No." A pauses. "I'm just recognizing the world for what it is."

"Dude, you're so disconnected."

"The only way you can get through life is to stay disconnected."

"God," I say. "The world you see sounds fucking miserable."

"Well, what kind of world do you see?"

"I see the bad, but I also see the good. I mean, yeah, there's a lot of shit, but if it's all you think about it can really bring you down."

"I can't see any good."

"I know. You need to look for the good, because sometimes it hides."

"Right…" He sounds unconvinced, but I suppose it's something he'll have to figure out on his own. There are lessons that can't be taught.

"So, what are you doing this weekend?" I ask.

"Token is having a get together…" Craig pauses. "He says it's a _small_ get together, but I know he's just saying that to get me to come."

"Yeah," I laugh. "At Token's house? It'll probably be a fuckin' huge party."

"Exactly."

"Token mentioned it to me earlier. It should be good."

"Hm."

"Are you going?"

"I'm not sure."

"You should."

"Why?" he asks, putting Stripe back in his cage. "So I can make an ass out of myself some more?"

"You never made an ass of yourself."

"Right…" He turns to face me and looks searchingly.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Out of every damn _girl_ you could choose to sleep with… who would have been more than glad to sleep with you… why'd you pick me? I'm male."

He's not gonna let this go. "I've always wanted to fuck a dude," I admit with what probably looks like a very lewd smile. "You're attractive and it just kind of worked out… And girls definitely don't like me as much as you think. Most of them actually hate me."

"Why?"

"Too many bad breakups, I guess. Then they talk amongst themselves and now I have a bad reputation."

"So, what does that make me?"

I shrug.

"Some sort of distraction?"

"Nah," I deny, though… maybe that's what he is? God, it sounds awful even when I admit it in my head.

"Hm."

"Yeah…"

"And you want to do it again?" he asks, seeming slightly rigid.

"Yeah. I liked it."

"Even though you're straight and I'm not a girl?"

I nod. "I mean, it's no big deal… Don't read too into it. Friends do this kind of shit all the time."

"Are we even friends?" he asks.

"Of course."

I stand up and walk towards him so we're standing face to face. "So, what do you say?"

He simply sighs, remaining silent. When he doesn't tell me to back off, I move forward and touch my mouth against his. I open a lid as his lips part slowly and I watch him close his eyes before doing the same once more.

"Hey," I pause as we break apart. "You have your tongue pierced."

"Yup."

"I didn't know that," I say. I guess I hadn't really paid attention to his mouth much until recently.

"Well, why would you?"

I just shrug, leaning forward and kissing him again. It escalates from here, but it's different than last time, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because we're both sober and we both know exactly what we're doing. Maybe we're no longer thinking of the consequences. Well, I don't know about Craig, but I'm not.

Both our movements are rushed, kind of desperate… It's like we need this and maybe we do, but for different reasons. Then again, maybe we're both looking for the same thing, whatever that may be.

And though it's unlike the first time, he still won't look at me. That much is the same.

I guess I have no right to ask him to.

* * *

When it's over, I let myself out. I can tell he doesn't really want me to stick around. When I reach the end of the staircase, Ruby is sitting alone on the sofa.

"Hey…" I say, forcing a happy face. "Where'd all your little friends go?"

"My _little friends_ went home."

"Oh."

"Your sister called. I was going to invite her over, but then I thought it probably wouldn't be a good idea."

"Oh, why not?" I frown.

"Because then she'd be forced to see you at your worst," she bites out accusingly.

"My worst?" I ask.

"Did you have fun?" she asks in a cold voice.

"What?"

"I said," she starts, "Did you have fun?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know."

I let out a breath. "Look, Ruby –"

"If you hurt my brother, I'll hurt _you_," she tersely warns.

I raise an eyebrow.

"And if you tell him I said that, I'll hurt you worse."

Tough love from Ruby fuckin' Gloom.

"Right, deal," I mumble before leaving.

I wonder if Craig is aware that Ruby knows… God damn it. Scary kid.

* * *

When I return home, my parents are fighting and Karen is yelling at them in a sad attempt to get them to stop. Fed up, I intervene only to be served a knuckle sandwich by my old man. "Fuck!" I shout, nursing my soon-to-be-bruise.

"Don't stick yer nose where it don't belong!" Dad warns me, shaking a recently emptied beer bottle in my direction.

"Stuart!" my mom shouts angrily. "Don't hit yer son, you god damn drunk!"

I can't help but laugh out loud as I leave the room –mainly to ensure I don't cry instead. This is so fucking typical. I try to fix things, but I just make it worse and the fight ends up being all about me.

It always happens like this –

In a matter of hours I'll be lying in my bed, half awake and my Dad will walk into my room. He'll finally be sober. He'll think I'm asleep and he'll think I won't hear him say it, but I always do.

"I'm sorry," he'll murmur, and he'll place a rough hand on my cheek, but I don't move. I pretend not to notice because, after all, I'm supposed to be asleep.

If he knew I was awake, he'd probably stop altogether. He wouldn't come back. He's that kind of man. Proud, in ways. Too proud to admit his mistakes because there is so many of them. Pride is a curse worse than mine.

I'll stick to dying.

* * *

The following morning, I walk to school with Kyle.

"What happened?" he asks, referring to my bruise.

"My dad is a retard," I say vaguely, knowing he'll understand.

"Oh…" he frowns, looking solemn.

"Anyway," I shrug. "Craig found out I told his little secret."

"How?"

"Eric heard us and made a scene."

Kyle rolls his eyes. "Typical fat ass…. He probably followed us. Was Craig angry?"

"No."

"Well, that's good."

"I guess, but I still feel pretty guilty about the whole thing."

"It's bound to happen. Secrets are hard to keep, especially when one knows as much as you do."

"Yes. I know many, many secrets," I wink.

"Oh, yeah?"

I simply nod.

"Care to explain?"

"Nope."

"Oh, come on," Kyle nags. "Who would I tell?"

"Heh… Okay, I have a fun one," I start. "Do you know how the girls make lists?"

He nods, probably recalling the time he was wrongly graced with the title of ugliest boy.

"Well," I continue. "They made one… listing what boys they think have the biggest dicks versus boys who they think have the smallest."

"Oh, my God," Kyle laughs. "Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm a hundred percent serious," I chuckle. "They have so many lists… about pretty much everything you can imagine."

"Wow," he snorts.

"So, guess who was number one?" I smirk.

He rolls his eyes. "Was it you?" he asks dryly.

"No, no," I snicker. "It was you."

Kyle's jaw drops and he starts laughing all over again. "No way… Oh, my God!" he covers his mouth in an attempt to suppress giggles. "How would they even compose a list like that and why?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure what sort of logic they're using. Maybe it's because you don't really try and compensate for anything. You're a nice guy and unlike a lot of us, you're pretty respectful."

"That's so funny!"

"I know," I grin.

"What number was Stan?"

"Like… four or something, but there was probably a bias since Wendy probably sees his dick on a regular basis."

Kyle shakes his head in disbelief over the entire thing.

"Eric was last," I announce.

"Probably because he's fat," Kyle snorts.

"I made the bottom five and it's not because I have a small dick, it's because the girls on the committee hate me!"

"Why?" he asks, still trying to stifle laughter.

"Because I've hooked up with a bunch of them," I admit.

"And you used to talk about your so called ten inch dick all the damn time when we were kids," he adds. "Overcompensation, perhaps?"

Okay, so maybe it's not quite that big, but I swear it's a good size! "They also think I'm a pig," I finish, pouting. "So lame."

"It's okay, Kenny," Kyle pats my shoulder in a patronizing manner. "We know you're cock is a beast."

I roll my eyes at him. "Anyway!" I decide to change the subject.

"Yes," he says. "Did you speak to Craig yet?"

"Kind of… It was weird. He invited me over and we hung out a bit."

"That's good, right?"

"Yeah, I've never been to his place before. His room is very… Craig."

"What's that mean?"

"It's totally plain and boring… but there's probably all kinds of shit hidden around where it can't be seen."

"Oh," Kyle chuckles. "Did you guys come to an agreement on what sort of arrangement you want?"

"Kind of," I say again. "I mean… we didn't actually say it in words… we just kind of… fucked again."

"Oh," he pauses. "Well… that's okay, right?"

"I think so," I shrug. "It's kind of obvious Craig has a hard time saying what he wants."

"Lots of people do."

* * *

Craig looks tired when I spot him during the last half of lunch break him. He stomps right past me and into the boy's washroom.

I follow after him, opening the door. He's leaning over a sink, staring at himself in the mirror.

"Hey…" I say softly, noting the mark on his cheek. "You okay?"

He takes a breath. "I'm fine."

"What happened to your face?"

"Your friend Eric decided to start shit," he says, looking in the mirror and poking the bruise. "I punched him."

I frown. "And he got you back?"

"Yeah… We both got fucking detention after classes for fighting on school grounds."

"Sucks."

"Christ," he murmurs. "I look like a dumbass."

"Well," I say, pointing to my own black and purple mark, "I've got a bruise, too. We can be twins."

"Right," he snorts. "What's yours from?"

"It was a present from my daddy," I say in a joking tone, though I'm a hundred percent serious.

"Oh," he says.

"Yeah…" I shrug. "Anyway, apart from all that shit, how're you?"

"I woke up this morning and Stripe was dead in his cage."

"I'm sorry," I sympathize. I know how much Craig liked that little guinea pig. I saw it firsthand just the other day. It was one of the only things he outwardly showed his soft spot for. He was probably ready to hit the first person to piss him off and that happened to be Eric. Not that he didn't deserve it. I'm sure he did.

"It happens… He was old, for a guinea pig," he explains. "Wanna come with me to get another?"

"Yeah, sure," I say, surprised he's asking me. "Don't you usually bring Clyde?"

"I'm asking you this time."

"Okay," I relent, knowing he probably isn't going to say why he's picking me. I won't complain. I know it probably means something. "Want to skip out on last class?"

"Yeah," he says. "Detention, too."

"Won't you get a double detention if you skip?"

"No. I'm in there enough. They don't even bother keeping track of me anymore."

"Jeez," I chuckle.

He turns away from the mirror and I take note of his overall appearance. "Dude, have you showered today?" I ask. "You look…." I _sagely_ trail off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"No, I slept in."

"Well, come on," I say, gesturing for him to follow me.

"Where?"

"Locker rooms," I tell him. "You can shower there before we leave. I'll keep watch."

"Fine…"

"Heh…" I snicker. "Sometimes when our bills aren't paid I come to school early and shower in there so I can have hot water."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," I laugh. What a sad truth.

* * *

I watch him wash his hair like some sort of creepy voyeur.

"Stop looking at me," he commands.

"How do you know I'm looking?" I ask. "You don't even have your eyes open."

"I can tell you are and it's weird."

"Why? It's nothing I haven't seen and thoroughly explored before," I say in a suggestive tone.

He wipes the shampoo out of his eyes and gives me a dry look.

I just smile. "Take it as a compliment," I wiggle my brows. "It means I like what I see."

"You sound gay."

"Well," I snort, "this isn't exactly the most heterosexual situation."

"Hm."

"I also like seeing my art on you."

He shuts his eyes and ducks his head under the shower nozzle.

It's true. I've given out countless tattoos, but for the most part, I never get to see them after they're finished. Craig's the first friend who let me draw on his skin with permanent ink. Whether it is the simple words on his forearm, or the little bird on his back… I think it's pretty damn special.

He finishes rinsing his hair before turning the taps off. I toss him a towel and he dries off quickly, throwing his clothes back on.

"We ready?" I ask, throwing my book bag over my shoulders.

"Mhm," he murmurs, doing the same with his bag.


	5. Dirty secret

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks for follows and such :) **

* * *

On our way out of the school, Eric stops me and pulls me aside with force. Craig looks back at us and raises an eyebrow. "I'll catch up with you in the parking lot," I tell him before turning to Eric. "What?" I bite out.

"Why are you spending so much time with that asshole? Remember what a cocksucker he was when we were kids?"

"He's not that bad," I say. "He's a hell of a lot nicer than you. Besides, we were all little assholes as kids… and _some of us_ still are."

Eric smirks. "Are you, like… legit gay for him or something?"

"No."

"Christ, at one point in my life I thought you were the straightest guy I knew. Is he trying to seduce you?"

"Dude, no. Craig doesn't do shit like that," I give a frustrated sigh. "And even if I was with him, why the hell does it matter so much?"

"It doesn't," he pauses, "At least, on a whole it doesn't… However, it would give me something else to taunt you about."

I think Eric is insecure. That's why he's so homophobic. He feels the need to compensate for all the less than masculine things he did when we were kids. "I'm glad to know where your priorities lie," I murmur, walking off.

Outside, Craig is sitting on a bench holding keys. "Sorry about that," I say as he stands up. He doesn't bother answering, so I silently follow him to his car.

"I didn't know you had a car," I mention.

"It's a piece of shit," he murmurs. "I just picked it up the other day. It was getting repaired." A pause. "What did Eric want?" he asks as we settled inside.

"He's just being a dick, like always."

Craig pulls out of the school parking lot and the ride is silent.

"What are you scared of?" I suddenly ask.

He doesn't answer for a while, and part of me thinks he isn't going to say anything at all until he lets out a quiet sigh. "Why?"

"I want to know."

"Why?"

"Because I want to know about you."

"But why?"

"You interest me."

"I don't think that anyone has ever said that or even thought it before."

"Heh, well I guess I'm special."

Honestly, I don't know much about Craig Tucker. I just know he likes animals.

"I don't like heights."

"Heights?"

"Yeah."

"Not really the kind of answer I was looking for or expecting, but I'll take it," I chuckle.

"Well, what were you expecting?"

"Something a little darker?" I shrug, chuckling some more.

"I don't think I have any."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I think you do. I mean, most people do. It just takes something to happen before they realize it."

"Is that so?" he asks, and I can tell he's completely uninterested in what I'm saying by the tone of his voice.

"Yeah…" I continue, paying no mind to his apathy. "You don't know your true self until you're faced with a tragedy because then all of the stupid shit is pushed to the side and all you have left is the important things. You find out what really matters, who really matters… You'll find out who is going to be there for you when shit hits the fan."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"Sure."

"You're scared of people finding out you're gay," I tell him.

"That's justifiable."

"Kids can be cruel," I admit.

Silence.

"Who is your favourite writer?" I ask.

"Mark Twain."

"I don't even know who that is," I snort.

"We studied him in school…" he states as if he's talking to a retard.

"Oh," I say. "Guess I wasn't that into him."

"Who do you like, then?"

"I'm more of a comic book kinda guy."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," I chuckle. "Though, I don't usually admit it."

"So, no novels?"

"Kyle likes it when people read… He kind of made it his responsibility last summer to make sure we all kept reading. He gave us all a pile of books he thought suited us and our interests. So, in my pile was Charles Bukowski and a shit ton of Chuck Palahniuk."

"I like Chuck Palahniuk."

"I like him too," I smile. "Out of all the novels Kyle gave me to read, his were my favourite. Bukowski was a dick, especially to the ladies."

"You read all the books he gave you to read?"

"I did…" I pause. "Do you read a lot, Craig?"

"I suppose."

"Cool," I say. Honestly, he doesn't strike me as a reader. Maybe I'm just being judgemental. Kyle once told me that reading is like an escape for some people. If a person is unhappy with their own life, books can take them away for a while. I guess sometimes it's easier to be taken away than to deal with things in life. I get that, but I was never big into reading.

I wonder if Craig is like Kyle – always looking for an escape. Or maybe he just likes the simple entertainment.

* * *

Once we arrive at the pet store, an employee greets Craig by name. "Hi," he answers before turning down an aisle.

"You come here a lot, I'm assuming?" I ask.

"Yeah, I buy pet supplies for Stripe here," he says, looking at the cages of guinea pigs.

Once he picks one that looks like Stripe is supposed to look, a woman puts the little rodent in a box and Craig pays for it. I hold the box in my lap on the car ride back; while thinking it's kind of sad Craig does this. I'm assuming his parents used to do it and he just kept up the old tradition when he found out that his pet wasn't living long, but dying and always being replaced without him knowing. Once the cage is full again, he probably pretends he still doesn't know what's Stripe is always being replaced.

"I should get my licence," I say, just for the sake of saying something.

"You don't have it already?" he asks.

"No. I can't even afford to take it, dude."

"That sucks," he says unsympathetically.

"And even if I did have it, I guess it'd be pointless."

"Why?"

"I don't have a car and I can't see myself getting one any time soon."

"Why not?"

"My money goes towards food, for the most part," I admit.

"Shouldn't your parents be feeding you?"

"My parents never go grocery shopping. All they care about is buying drugs. I've come to accept that. Sometimes my mom tries… but things just get in the way."

"Oh…" he pauses. "I thought that was mostly rumors."

"No," I snort. "I mean… it's bad, but they're mine and I kind of have to love them."

"You don't have to."

"Well," I shrug. "Being the type of person that I am, I do."

"And what kind of person is that?"

"Too forgiving, I guess."

"Oh."

I think, in many ways, Craig and I are like polar opposites. Maybe that means we can learn a bit from each other, like Karen said. He strikes me as the kind of guy who could really hold a grudge, but would do it in secret.

* * *

The weekend is already here and I'm already drunk at Token's. The rest of the week went by quietly. Awkward conversations with Craig and secret confrontations with Eric, while Kyle tried to be as comforting as he could.

Eric smiles in suspiciously good nature. "You're spending an awful lot of time with my good friend Kinny lately."

"And?" Craig says, disinterested.

"He's such a fun guy, I'm sure you get to hear him tell all kinds of entertaining stories, huh?"

Craig's eyes narrow, as if he's silently asking Eric what exactly he's getting at. I, myself, am wondering the same… "Eric," I cut in, afraid of what he might let slip. He knows a lot of my dirt, and since he's a shitty person I doubt he'd hesitate to use it to mess with me. "Shut up."

He ignores me, still staring at Craig. He throws an arm around my shoulder, acting buddy-buddy as he says, "Did he tell you about the time he slept with one of our teachers?"

"What?" Craig asks in a deadpan.

"Eric –!" I try again, feeling panicked. He just cuts me off again.

"Well, basically the story goes like this – Kinny slept with one of the teachers," Eric states simply, turning his head to glance at me. "That hot, young bitch we had for English last semester. Isn't that right, Kenny, yah dawg?"

I don't answer. I bite the inside of my mouth and try hard to resist the urge to punch his fat face.

"Right…" Craig says, clearly unconvinced.

"It's true, even ask him."

"Dude," I cut in, "Just shut the fuck up."

Eric ignores me yet again, looking over at Craig again and smiling a very smug smile. "Ask him about it if you don't believe me, seriously. You know he's always been a really shitty liar… Or maybe you don't know that. Either way, looks like you just don't know him as well as the rest of us."

Craig raises an eyebrow, glancing over at me as Eric walks off.

God dammit! Why does that bastard have to try to ruin every single fucking thing?

"Well?" Craig asks expectantly.

"Well, what?" I ask.

"You know what."

I don't say anything, and he lets out a sigh. "Is it true?" he gives me a dry look.

"I was failing…" I weakly attempt to defend myself.

Craig closes his eyes and shakes his head. "God, you're so disgusting," he says before walking off.

"Why the hell does it even matter to you?" I ask, following after him.

"It doesn't matter to me," he insists. "It's just a fucking low thing to do in general."

"Well, then don't allow it to concern you if you don't personally care," I snap.

"Done," he says before getting lost in a nearby crowd.

I quickly finish the rest of my rum and coke before making my way into the kitchen… Or should I stay stumble?

"Hey, honey," Bebe greets me offhandedly as she mixes herself a drink.

"Wanna make me one of them?" I ask, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"Sure, sweets," she says. "You okay?"

"I think so," I say.

She just smiles. "Are you sure you need another one?"

"Yers…"

"I'm going to make you a pretty weak drink, because it doesn't look or sound like you need too much more."

Moments later, she takes a seat next to me, placing a drink in front of me and another in front of herself. "Here."

"Thanks," I say.

"So," she starts, placing her hand on the back of my neck and touching the ends of my wavy, blond hair. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, I think," I tell her, taking a sip. "What did you make me?"

"Vodka and lemonade… but mostly lemonade."

"Oh," I take another sip.

"You seem like you're having a bad night," she comments.

"I don't know. Maybe I am…"

"Too drunk to tell?" she chuckles.

"I might be."

"Did you have a fight with a friend?"

"Yeah, I did!" I exclaim. "God, Eric is being such a dick!"

She nods sympathetically. "Yeah, he's good like that."

Bebe allows me to rant nonsense for a while. I don't think she understands a word I'm saying, but she nods along nonetheless. I think she's used to it by now. I should buy her something one of these days as a thank you for putting up with all my shit. I'm also trying damn hard not to say anything about Craig. I don't want him getting even angrier at me.

"Is Eric the one who gave you that bruise?" she asks.

"No," I slur, "tha's my dad."

"Oh," she frowns, eyebrows drawing together and sympathy finding its way across her face.

I just shrug, yawn, and let out a little laugh. "I'm upset," I admit.

She leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me into her chest.

I close my eyes, soaking up the comfort.

"Hands," she warns, pulling my hair.

I just snicker.

* * *

I don't see Craig for the rest of the night. He probably went home. I begin feeling sick a little after midnight and make my way outside so I won't cause a scene. So here I am - hunched over and puking off the balcony behind Clyde's house. I'm so drunk I can't walk or talk and it's hard to keep my eyes open. This feels worse than the time I puked in Token's indoor pool.

I spit and drool a bit more after I stop hurling. "Fuckin' hell," I slur, letting out a groan before falling over. "Fuck…" I don't know how long I'm lying there like that, but I feel a hand on my back a little while later, and a voice says, "Come on, idiot. Let me take you home." I don't ask questions and I don't even bother trying to pull myself together because I've been like this so many damn times before I know it won't work. I sit on my knees and wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my sweater. "Take your time," the voice says.

I make some nonsense noise as I feel myself being pulled up. "Okay, _McCormick_, help me out a bit. On the count of three, stand up. One… two… three…"


	6. The hangover

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone celebrating~ **

* * *

I don't know why, but suddenly I'm feeling overwhelmed. "Craig, s'that you?" I murmur, feeling pathetically hopeful and I'm not entirely sure why. I'd probably be better off if this was Stan… Or Kyle, but I doubt Kyle could lift me. He's too small.

"Hang on," he says, as I ride on his back. "If you fall off and die… it won't be my fault."

I wrap my arms around his neck and press my face into his shoulder. For some reason, I feel my eyes begin to water. I'm really not really sure why. Maybe it's because I'm completely embarrassed. Maybe Kenny McCormick is just the sad drunk tonight. It always varies. I guess it all depends on how the day goes. Tonight kind of sucked.

"Hey, are you crying on me?"

I shake my head against him. "No," I say in a wet voice, and that gives it all away.

He lets out a quiet sigh, but says nothing more. I guess I can't expect him to.

* * *

I wake up around 4 in the morning and hear my parents arguing. I still feel drunk, but not as sick. I'll probably need to hurl again in a few hours, though. I get out of bed and carefully make my way downstairs without thinking. I hold onto the railings for dear life, trying hard not to trip.

I can hear my parents talking as I hover in the doorway. "Kenny?" my dad is the first one to notice me.

"Yeah," I mumble.

My mom turns to face me. "Do you remember how you got home?" she asks.

"Did someone bring me here?" I ask, not quite sure. The memory is hazy.

"Yes, honey, someone brought you home…" she sighs. "Baby, you can't do things like that… You weren't even coherent. We tried to talk to you and couldn't make sense of a damn thing you said. You're lucky no one tried to hurt you."

"I know."

"How are you feeling now?"

"Drunk."

"I'm not surprised," she shakes her head.

"What were you guys arguing about?" I ask, crossing my arms as I change the subject.

"Nothing you need to worry about," my dad cuts in.

"Was it me?" I frown, feeling bitter.

"No," they both answer in unison but I can tell they're lying.

"I'm not going to end up like Kevin!" I raise my voice. "You don't need to keep freaking out about it!"

"After tonight," Mom starts, "I'm not so sure."

"You guys are so fucking hypocritical," I laugh in disbelief.

"Sh," she hushes me. "Karen is asleep, and so is your friend."

"Who?"

"The Tucker boy."

I raise an eyebrow. "Craig?"

"He brought you home."

"He brought me home…?" I ask quietly.

"He did and it was damn nice of him. He carried you all the way here with his jacket covered in your vomit, so I insisted he stay the night while we wash it. It was too late for him to be walking home."

"I'm sorry…" I say sincerely.

My mother just shakes her head, giving me a sympathetic look. She touches my cheek and says, "You should get a glass of water and try to sleep some more. Tomorrow is another day."

I nod at her before sparing my Dad a glance, before doing as she says. "Goodnight." I turn away and walk back upstairs without as much as another word.

When I'm back in my room, I notice something I hadn't before I went downstairs.

Craig.

"Are you awake?" I ask. He doesn't answer, but I can hear him breathing. "Your breathing is uneven… I know you're awake," I deadpan.

I hear him let out a sigh before opening his eyes. "Are you done fighting with your parents?"

"Yes," I bite out, lying down next to him.

"They're angry," he states. It's not a question.

"They don't want me to turn into Kevin."

"What happened to Kevin?" he asks.

"He's just a bad guy in general," I start. "He's been arrested a bunch of times and he's only twenty-two."

"That sucks."

"No shit," I say coldly.

He rolls over, facing me but not speaking.

"You know," I suddenly begin, "There's a difference between being an introvert and being an antisocial faggot."

"What?" Craig asks quietly, frowning.

"You heard me." Instead of answering, he shuts his eyes and rolls back around, leaving me to stare at his back. "Asshole," I mumble when he ignores me.

* * *

I wake up again around 2PM and there's no sign Craig was even here. Obviously. He probably went home as soon as he could. Oh, well.

Boy, did I ever sleep in. I have a wicked headache and my stomach feels like there's an army trying to get out and they're all slowing climbing up my throat. I race to the bathroom and dump my guts out in the sink.

"Kenny?" asks an airy voice and I don't have to turn around to know it's Karen.

"It's fine, Kare…" I say, "Go."

"Do you want anything?" she offers.

I spit in the sink a bit before wiping my mouth, "Tylenol and a glass of water."

She nods, leaving.

God, this sucks. I'm not drinking again for a while, that's for sure. When Karen returns, she sets a glass down and hands me to little pills. "Thanks," I mutter before downing them.

"Sip slowly," she suggests, "and then lay back down."

"I know," I chuckle somewhat sadly. "I've done this before."

She nods sympathetically. "Yeah…" That's how she knows, too.

"I'm really sorry, Kare," I say.

"Don't worry about it, Kenny. You didn't do anything wrong. When you're in bed, I'll fetch a cold cloth for your forehead."

"Okay," I force a smile. "I'll go lay down now." I walk past her and back into my room. I take off my jeans from last night along with my sweater before crawling back into bed. I close my eyes and try to think about things. Sometimes, when I'm trying to sleep, I create scenarios in my head. It's fun, and it always helps me fall asleep pretty quickly. I feel the Tylenol setting in as Karen saunters into my room to place a cold cloth on my forehead.

"Thanks," I mumble.

"Feel better," she whispers.

* * *

I wake up yet again around 9PM and am careful not to exert myself. Hangovers are the worst. I take it easy and munch on a couple crackers. Karen's idea.

"Was the party at least fun?" she asks.

"Oh, yeah," I lie. It wasn't that much fun, but that's my own damn fault for being an idiot. "I was kind of a dick to Craig, though…"

"Why?"

"I was frustrated, I guess. I'll apologize later on. He isn't sensitive, so he probably doesn't even care, but still."

"He probably cares," she says softly.

"You think?"

"Probably," she repeats, smiling slightly. "Some people just don't know how to show that they care. It's easier to act cold."

"I guess."

"So," Karen starts, "What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?"

"I have no idea," I say. "I'll probably just chill out… All I know is that I'm not drinking again for a long time."

"Good," she chuckles.

* * *

On Sunday, I decide I'm feeling decent enough to walk to Craig's place. When I knock at the door, Ruby answers it and I can tell she isn't too happy to see me back at her house. "Hey," I hold up my hand after a moment of silence.

"Craig isn't awake," she states.

"He's still sleeping?"

"Yeah."

"Can I wait for him?"

"Fine," she says tersely. She opens the door, allowing me inside. "You can go upstairs, but be quiet. He'll be cranky if you wake him up."

"Okay," I say, tip toeing up the stairs and into his bedroom.

The door creaks open and I slowly close it behind me. The room is dark and quiet. All I can hear is Craig's soft and even breathing. I approach his bedside and stare down at him. He is lying on his back in the center of the mattress, holding a fistful of the blanket to his chest. His lips are slightly parted and he's kinda drooling, but he looks… weirdly fucking cute. I wonder if he's dreaming, and if so, what he's dreaming of. I lay down next to him, uncomfortably squeezing on the small space he isn't taking up while I wait for him to open his eyes. It's almost noon. He should hurry up or he'll waste the day. I'm tempted to wake him up, but I don't want to invoke his wrath. Ruby definitely scared me against the idea.

What could be mere seconds later, or an hour later, Craig shifts and his eyes slowly open. "Awake?" I ask, sitting up and staring down at him.

He looks bleary for a split second until reality dawns upon him. "Holy fuck!" he shouts in horror, jumping backwards off the bed.

I gape before breaking out in laughter. "That was quite the reaction."

"God!" he yells, looking up at me. "You scared the shit out of me…"

"Did I? Mission accomplished," I grin.

He stands up, scowling.

"You're really fucking cute when you sleep," I comment.

"Shut up," he mutters, rubbing his eyes. "You're creepy."

I chuckle, rolling into the center of his bed. "You take up a lot of space when you sleep. It must be damn uncomfortable sharing a bed." That's probably why he said he has such a hard time sleeping in beds that aren't his own.

"It is…" he mumbles. "What time is it?"

"Almost twelve."

"Oh."

"Do you always sleep in this late?" I ask.

"That's what my weekends are for. Sometimes I'll sleep until 2PM."

"That's so boring."

"Yup."

"Just the way you like it?" I venture.

"Just the way I like it."

I nod, somewhat humoured. "So, hey, I wanted to thank you for bringing me home on Friday night."

"Yeah… it's fine."

"I'm grateful, seriously. I know I didn't really act it, but…" I trail off, shrugging.

"It's fine," he says again.

"I hope I wasn't too difficult."

"You tried to take your clothes off," he starts, sitting back down on his bed. "I didn't let you…"

"Again, thanks," I mumble, somewhat tersely. "I often wake up naked. Drunk or not, it's a fairly normal occurrence. Sometimes I kick my pants off in my sleep."

"Oh."

"Sorry for being a dick."

"It's fine," he says for a third time, "I don't care."

"All right."

There's a pause –

"So. You fucked a teacher," he states. I was waiting for him to bring that up.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I say. "Not one of my proudest moments."

"You don't seem to have any proud moments."

I force a smile. "I have some."

"How did a thing like that even happen?"

"I told you… I don't want to talk about it. It's like how you don't want to talk about all the marks on your stomach."

"Fine…" he backs off.

"But… just so you know, if you ever _do_ want to talk about that, I'm here to listen," I offer.

"Right," he murmurs. I watch as he places a hand on his clothed abdomen. The gesture looks almost unconscious.

"Where are your parents?" I ask. "Ruby answered the door when I got here."

"They're at work…" he says. "When did you get here?"

"Not too long ago."

"And you just watched me sleep?"

"Yeah," I laugh. "Ruby warned me not to wake you up. She said you get cranky."

"I don't get cranky," he insists.

"Sure, sure," I say dismissively.

"I don't," he repeats.

"Okay, okay."

"Was there anything else you needed?" he asks.

"No… but since I'm here, let's hang out."

"Hang out," he states. "By that, do you mean fuck?"

"Weeell," I shrug. "We can do that, if you want."

He lies back down. "I don't feel like it," he yawns. "I'm too tired."

"Then how about I blow you."

He raises an eyebrow. "You're fucking gay."

"Nah, that's you," I give him what probably looks like a pretty lecherous grin. "So, how about it?"

"Fine," he says. "Go for it."

I get up and reposition myself between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants down below his hipbones. I reach forward experimentally, touching him the way I'd touch myself. I feel him grow hard in my hand. I've never blown a dude before; unless you count that one time I gave a hummer to a _certain_ radio personality… But even after that, I got curious. I mean, I'm sure lots of guys get curious and when you get it on your hand while you're jerking off… It's tempting.

"Feels good…" Craig murmurs, closing his eyes.

Well, that's all the encouragement I need. I stick out my tongue and lick the shaft before taking the whole damn thing in my mouth, determined not to accidentally use teeth. From a lot of firsthand experiences, I know that the fear of castration is definitely not pleasant.

I put my hands on Craig's twitchy hips as he lets out a quiet moan. I kinda like having this sort of control over him. The reaction is the best part.

Craig gives no warning and I have to force back a choking noise when I feel his spooge shoot down my throat. Jesus Christ. Now I know why they call it a blow_job_. The actors in porn make that shit look easy. Well, I guess this is another thing I can cross off of my bucket list. It's kind of ironic to call it a bucket list, but whatever.

"How'd it taste?" Craig asks, pulling his pants back over his hips.

"Not awesome, but tolerable," I shrug.

"Hm."

"When do you think you'll come out?" I ask, flopping down next to him.

"When I'm in a relationship," he says. "Until then… there's no need to say it. It isn't really anyone's business but my own."

"I guess that's true."

Even though he says that, I still think the larger part of him is scared of the reactions he'll get. I guess I don't really blame him. When Kyle came out, he got hell for it. Mostly thanks to Cartman's homophobic rants. Things smoothed over once kids got tired of teasing him and something better came along, but still… It didn't look like fun. Then again, maybe it'll be different for Craig because so many kids are scared of him.

"What time is it now?" he asks.

I take my cellphone out of my pocket. "It's twelve thirty."

He sits up, still looking tired.

"You getting up now?"

"Yeah, I'm awake enough." He stands and wanders towards the door. "Coming?"

I follow him to his feet and downstairs, where Ruby is looking sour as ever. She has her arms crossed and she's looking at me as if she knows exactly what I just did. God, how unsettling and awkward.

"What's with you?" Craig asks his sister.

"Nothing, you boob," she says from her seat on the sofa.

"We're going to be in here…" he trails off.

"Fine," she stands up and stomps upstairs.

"What's wrong with her?" I ask once she's gone.

"She's a brat," Craig says offhandedly. "I'm gonna eat. Do you want anything?"

"I'm good."

He turns the television on and tosses me the remote before walking into the kitchen. I aimless flick through channels until Craig returns.

"Here," he says, handing me a banana.

"What's this?" I ask.

"A banana…"

"I know that, smart ass," I shake my head.

"I know you're hungry."

"How?" I raise an eyebrow, peeling the banana.

He just shrugs, sitting down next to me. I smile deviously before suggestively licking the banana. Craig looks mildly humored before shaking his head at me. A moment later he takes a particularly sharp and quick bite out of his own banana, causing me to cringe.


	7. Eric Cartman strikes again

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks for reviewing ~ **

* * *

We decide to watch some shitty made-for-TV movie. "Commercials play on people's insecurities," I say during the break as a stupid shampoo commercial comes on the screen.

"How?" Craig asks.

"White teeth, shiny hair, nice skin, toned body…" I trail off, shrugging. "They're things people desire and commercials tell us if we buy these products, we'll achieve those things… Kyle taught me that."

"I guess so."

"Everyone is flawed. It's part of being human."

"Yeah. I know… Everyone is seeking perfection. I doubt it exists."

"Well, maybe it does… It's just subjective. Everyone's idea of perfection is different."

"It's still probably impossible to achieve."

"Probably," I admit, pausing. "Hey, Craig?"

"What?"

"When's the last time you purposefully hurt yourself?" I ask.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do," I insist.

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Why do you do it?"

"Because," he says simply.

I let out a soft breath. "I think if you hurt yourself on the outside and it eventually numbs you on the inside. You're already like a fucking zombie, dude."

"It's not true," he murmurs quietly. "It keeps you from going numb."

"But you still feel things, Craig."

"Do I?" he wonders.

"Yeah…" I insist. "I mean, love, for one thing."

His expression remains perfectly blank.

"I'm serious," I continue. "I mean… you were into Clyde, right? And before that, Tweek?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say it was love. It wasn't love… It was attraction."

"Okay, fine… but it was a feeling, nonetheless. You felt things. I saw."

"You saw?" he snorts.

"Yeah," I continue. "I saw how hard you had to try to swallow your emotions after Clyde rejected you . So, I'd say it was more than just physical attraction."

He rolls his eyes at me.

"I'm serious, dude."

He gives me a double-handed flip off, not wanting to hear me point these things out.

"Are you still into Clyde?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says.

"Oh."

"Why?"

"Just wondering," I shrug. "You into anyone else?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Maybe," he admits. "I don't know. Christ."

"Oh." I'm not sure why, but for some reason don't feel like sharing him. I guess that's pretty asshole-ish on my behalf, since I have no intention of ever really being with him… Probably. Shit, I don't know anymore.

"Why all the questions?" he peers at me.

I just shrug again. "Call me curious."

"Right…"

"I'm gonna go," I say, tossing the banana peeling at his face. He sets it on the table, giving me an irritated look before following me to my feet and to the front.

"Are you coming to school tomorrow?" I ask, opening the door.

"I don't know."

"Well," I start, giving him a peck on the lips. "I'll see you at school… if you decide to go."

"Yeah, bye…" he says softly, not closing the door until I'm at the end of his driveway.

* * *

As soon as I step into school, something feels off. I can tell something happened; I'm just not sure what. It's quiet, and everyone is whispering. "Dude," I say when I come by the first familiar face, "What happened."

"Well," Kyle deadpans, "Eric Cartman happened, that's what."

I feel myself grimace. "What did he do this time?" I ask expectantly.

Kyle lets out a sigh, handing me a photograph. "Kenny, he did exactly what you think he did."

"Fuck," I grit, taking the picture and looking at it. It's me and Craig standing on his doorstep. Kissing. "Crap…" I mumble. "And let me guess… these are all over the damn school?"

He nods. "They were taped to lockers."

"Fuckin' hell…"

"It's blurry…" Kyle attempts to reason.

"I'm sure Eric made sure everyone knew who it was," I say distastefully.

"If you wanted to, you could deny that it was you and Craig."

"I don't know," I shrug, ripping the picture up. "It's up to Craig… This doesn't really tarnish my reputation… or lack of reputation."

Kyle smiles sympathetically. "He went home. You should go find him."

"Yeah," I mumble before departing. I make my way through the hallways, trying to find Clyde or Token, but no such luck. Instead, I see Eric. I could totally smack him upside the head… but I won't. "Hey, fat-tits," I shout at him.

He turns around, and the most deviant grin spreads across his face. "Hey, Kinny."

"Why the hell did you do it?" I ask angrily.

"Because I was out for a walk and I saw you guys, blissfully unaware I was nearby. It was like you were begging me to do it. Plus, I don't like Craig," he says simply. "No one really does. I thought you were on the same boat until you started getting all friendly with him. It kinda makes sense why. I mean… you're just like that. You probably stick around because he lets you stick it to 'im like a slut."

"That's not true," I insist, but… maybe it is?

"Whatever you say," he sings, unconvinced.

"I'm serious!"

"Sure," he says in that same tone.

"God," I shout, throwing my hands up in the air. "You're such a shitty person. You did this to Kyle, too."

"Kahl needed me," Eric says with certainty. "If it wasn't for me, he'd never get his faggy ass out of the closet. Besides, he got over it."

"You didn't do him a favour, and you didn't do Craig a favour, either. It's not for you to decide! You had no right!"

"He'll thank me in a few years."

"No," I start, "I don't think he will." And he definitely won't be giving me any special treatment once he sees me. God dammit, this is all my fault. I had to open my big mouth to Kyle a few weeks back. If I didn't do that, then Eric wouldn't have had anything worth spying on.

Eric shrugs before sauntering off, looking proud of what he's done. Bastard.

I stomp to class, and the teacher scolds me for being late. "You're late again, Mr. McCormick," she points out.

"Sorry," I mumble, flopping into a chair and tossing my bag on the floor. Should I really be here? I feel like I should go find Craig instead of wasting time in class. This is all my fault, after all. I should at least see if there will need to be any damage control. I grab my bag and sit up.

"Mr. McCormick, what is it this time?" the teacher asks with a sigh. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I… have to… do something…" I say, fighting for an excuse, but failing miserably.

"Oh, is that so?" she says, looking like she's being fed a giant turd.

"Yes. It's important."

"You're wasting everyone's time. Take your damn seat."

I continue to inch towards the door and the teacher looks constipated. "I said sit down," she snaps.

"It's real important, so sorry, I gotta run," I say in a less than sincere tone as I reach the door, swinging it open and making my escape.

* * *

When I arrive to the Tucker house I knock on the door. Craig's mom answers and I just give her my friendliest smile. This is the first time I've seen her in years. She's never really around. "Hello," she says.

"Hi," I greet, "is Craig around?"

"He came home sick," she tells me.

"I know," I nod. "I have a free period and I thought I'd come visit." A lie, but oh well.

She opens the door, allowing me inside. "Come in, he's lying down."

"Thank you." I smile once more as she leads me upstairs to her son's bedroom.

"Craig?" she says, opening his door. "Your friend is here to see you."

He doesn't budge an inch. He's lying on his bed, looking thoroughly miserable as he stares up at the ceiling.

"Thanks, Mrs. Tucker," I say before sauntering inside. I wait until she's gone before I speak to Craig.

"Hey," I say, closing the door. "Craig?"

"What?"

"You okay?"

"I'm lying here despondently," he states. "What do you think?"

"Right…" I mumble.

"What do you want?" he asks.

"I want to say sorry."

"Why are you sorry this time?" He sighs the question as if he's tired of my constant apologizing.

"This whole thing is all my fault."

"How so?"

"If I wasn't telling Kyle all about us, Eric wouldn't have overheard."

"It's mostly his fault, then. He could have kept his mouth shut," he decides, closing his eyes. He's quiet again, and so am I. I'm not sure what else there is for me to say. "I didn't want it to happen like that," he admits.

"I know…" I mumble. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

He only nods. I guess all I can do is what he asks. I turn away and make it halfway down the stairs before pausing and deciding that I'm not going to leave. If I do, I'll just go home and wish I stayed. I walk back up the stairs and swing his door open. Craig is sitting against his headboard, staring at the wall in front of him.

"Craig?"

He looks surprised and frantically wipes at his eyes.

"Are you upset?" I ask quietly.

"No… I thought you left."

"You're crying…" I carefully point out.

"Because I'm angry," he states somewhat tersely. "I'm going to _shoot_ your fat friend."

"No, you're not."

"You're right," he tartly admits. "I doubt it would be possible to fatally wound him. He's too obese. All that fat is probably impenetrable."

"Yes," I chuckle, humouring him. "That's exactly it."

He lets out a breath, drying his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. I'm not really sure of what to do, so I sit down next to him and pull him into my chest.

"Let go," he demands, trying to push me away.

"Nope." He gives in after a minute, allowing himself to go limp in my hold. "There's no shame in crying. I do it all the time," I tell him.

"I'm not you," he whispers.

"If you want to cry, I won't tell anyone," I promise.

He's quiet for a moment until his shoulders begin to shake. He lets out a quiet sob, and I don't say a fucking word. I lean backwards, letting him to lie on top of me and press his face into the crook of my neck. I guess even Craig gets overwhelmed sometimes. I've never seen him like this… showing so much emotion. I kind of like it, bad as that sounds. I have a feeling moments like these are few and far between.

"For curiosity's sake… How _did_ you want it to happen?" I ask once he's quiet again.

"I don't know," he sighs into my neck. "I thought it'd be easier…"

"It should be," I say, feeling the small of his back beneath his shirt, "but it never is… It's not your fault. It's everyone else that makes it difficult. It shouldn't be so fucking scandalous."

"I'll have to tell my mother," he murmurs. "She'll ask… She's probably downstairs trying to figure out how to get answers out of me. She'll pretend to care. She'll act like she's not so fucking far away all the time… I didn't think she'd be home… I thought she'd be at work." God, he sounds so damn bitter.

"Again… I'm really sorry Eric took that picture," I apologize yet again.

"It's not your fault he did that. Stop apologizing," he demands.

"He did this to Kyle."

"I remember."

"Eric has a bit of a passion for photography. Unfortunately, candid shots are his favorite. He is a voyeur. He doesn't want his subjects to know they're being photographed."

"That's fucked up."

"Eric is fucked up," I say. "When we were ten years old he had a photo album full of photos of him doing weird shit to Butters while he was asleep. When we were sixteen, he filled another album up with photos of Kyle. We found it last year."

"Really?"

"I'm serious," I chuckle. "Kyle was so fucking angry he almost threw up. He works himself up a lot like that… but he got over it and they're friends again."

He raises his head and looks at me. His eyes are nose are red and his cheeks are flushed, but I don't mind. "Is there a point to these stories?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say with a slight smile. "The point is that Eric is an asshole and he does this kind of shit to everyone."

"Aren't you angry?" he wonders.

"I am," I admit, "but I don't care what people think of me. I think I'm just angry at him on your behalf."

"Oh."

"I'm still okay."

He doesn't say anything. For a moment, he just stares at me.

"What is it?" I chuckle. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No…" he murmurs. "It's nothing.

"Okay," I shrug.

"Are you happy?" he asks.

"I'm happy," I start, "until I begin to think about what that truly means."

"Why do you say that?"

"Have you ever tried contemplating your own happiness? It's tiring, so I just try not to do it."

He rolls off of me so we're side by side. His lips part, as if he's about to say something, but a knock on the door interrupts.

"Yeah?" he calls out evenly.

The door swings open and Token and Clyde are hovering there, looking cautious.

Craig quickly sits up, getting off the bed. "Why aren't you in class?" he asks as they enter his room. He defensively crosses his arms, probably trying to mentally prepare himself for whatever they came here to tell him.

"We had a free," Token starts, eying me, "Unlike our pal Kenny."

"Ah, shut the fuck up," I say in good humour.

"Oh," Craig replies flatly. He looks like he's trying to act apathetic, but his eyes are still bloodshot.

Clyde gives Craig the most sympathetic look I've ever seen before pulling him into his chest. "God, I'm so fucking sorry," he says. "We should kill Eric Cartman."

Craig sighs audibly before uncrossing his arms and wrapping them around Clyde. "Don't bother."

I watch the exchange, unsure if I should stay or if I should silently slip out of the room and give them all a moment to themselves. Once they separate, Token gives him a hug as well. "We don't care if you like guys," he says. "Sorry for all the gay jokes over the years. You probably felt like you couldn't tell me."

"It's fine," Craig insists.

"See?" I cut in. "Everything is going to be okay."

Clyde nods his head. "Besides, by the look of things, a lot of people are angry at Eric for being an asshole yet again. We're getting pretty sick of his shit."

"Yeah," Token adds. "You should've heard Bebe tell him off. It was hilarious."

Clyde begins to regale Craig with the story and this is where I choose to leave. It's probably a good idea for them all to have some time with each other.

"Excuse me?" I hear once I reach the bottom of the stairs.

I turn around and see Craig's mom standing a few feet away.

"What happened to my son?" she asks.

"What do you mean?" I tilt my head to the side, unsure of what she wants me to tell her.

"Craig isn't sick," she states. "He never gets sick… Something happened to my son."

"You're right in a way," I say, "but I'm not the person to ask… you should talk to him about it."

"He's a difficult boy to talk to."

"I know," I chuckle. "Trust me, I know. It takes a long time for him to let you in, but once you're there… it's worth it."

"You seem fond of him."

"I am," I smile.

"Thank you for checking on him."

I nod my head before opening the door. "Bye, Mrs. Tucker," I say before leaving.

I decide to go back to school now that all of that business is taken care of. Hopefully the school day is going normally and those pictures aren't still being circulated.

* * *

By the time I got there, it's midday. I find Kyle in the lunch line. "Bebe told Cartman off earlier," he laughs.

"I heard," I chuckle. "I wish I was there to see it."

"You should've been. It was fucking perfect, but unfortunately he wasn't really fazed by it," he says. "Where were you?"

"I went to see Craig."

"Is he okay?"

"I think so," I say, waiting for Kyle to order food.

"Do you want anything?" he cuts in.

"Nah, I'm good."

I walk with him to an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria before saying anything else. I'm not in the mood for any eavesdroppers to hear what I'm about to say. "He was a lot more emotive earlier–" I vaguely start, only to be cut off.

"_Craig_ was?" Kyle interrupts, showing disbelief.

"Yeah. It gave me, like, the weirdest boner… and I know that sounds bad because he was so damn angry, but I'm serious. It might sound stupid and gay, but I feel like it meant something."

"That he showed emotion?"

"No, that he did it in front of me… It's like I'm finally getting to see the parts of Craig that other people don't get to see."

Kyle shrugs, "Maybe it did mean something. Maybe he trusts you enough to open up a bit."

"Christ," I sigh, "this is all too confusing."

"Think about it like this – Maybe Craig is just helping you realize what you truly want."

"It's not like that… I like girls, I like boobs…"

"Kenny," Kyle chuckles, "maybe you like both… It's very plausible."

"Hm," I consider.

"I mean, it's not the end of the world. Besides, even if you're gay, you're allowed to appreciate the female body. I can appreciate female beauty and physique, but it doesn't mean I'd want to date a girl."

I shake my head. "Whatever," I say, "I'm not going to think about this shit."

"Okay."

"It's just a phase," I insist, not quite sure who I'm trying so hard to convince – Kyle or myself.

"Okay," he repeats with a little smile.


	8. Vanilla is boring

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**thanks for reviewing ~ (: **

* * *

After school, I make my way to Craig's house again. I feel like I'm here a lot lately. "Hey," I grin when he opens the door. "Your mom's not home?"

"She's at work now," he says, letting me in.

"Did you tell her?" I ask once we settle in the living room.

"Yeah," he says. "When Craig and Token left, she came upstairs."

"How'd it go?"

"She cried," he mumbles.

"She cried?"

He nods, "But I don't think she was angry at me… She hugged me and she said sorry."

"Why did she apologize?" I ask.

"She said she was sorry she didn't know I was struggling. She said she was sorry she didn't notice a thing for so damn long."

"Yeah," I say softly. "Most parents like to believe that their kids are perfect and they deny it with every fibre of their being when there is something wrong with them – no matter how damn obvious it is." I'm kind of glad mine aren't like that, even if it gets annoying sometimes.

"She'll tell my dad."

"Are you worried?"

He shrugs. He probably is worried. Hell, I'd be worried, too.

"Hey," I decide to change the subject since I know he isn't going to say anymore, "instead of just letting me draw _on_ you, you should let me draw you."

"Why?" he asks.

"Because you're a handsome dude and I like drawing pretty things."

He grimaces. "I'm not."

"Yeah, you are," I insist.

"Whatever."

I just smile, wiggling my eyebrows at him before leaning forward and kissing him. He's certainly not as rigid as he used to be.

"AHEM!" a young female voice suddenly interrupts.

We break apart and Craig pushes me away. Ruby is standing in the entrance with crossed arms. "When did you get home?" he asks his sister.

"Just now… You were probably too _preoccupied_ to hear me open the door," she says, giving me a sour glance.

"We'll go upstairs," Craig says.

"Don't bother," Ruby mumbles, tossing her schoolbag on the floor. "I'm going out," she says before slamming the door.

"It's not you," I say before the thought can pop into his mind.

"What?"

"She hates me," I laugh.

"Why?"

"She thinks I'm a big whore."

"You are."

I roll my eyes. "Maybe she thinks you deserve better than me. According to most people, I'm trash from the gutter."

"I don't think Ruby gives a shit what I do with my life."

"She's your sister. I'm sure she cares. She probably just has a hard time showing it."

He shrugs. "Either way, I'm eighteen. I'm a fucking adult. The last person I need making decisions for me is my little sister."

"I guess so," I laugh. "I used to be really overprotective of Karen. I was so fucking scared something bad would happen to her."

"Did anything?"

"No. Never… but the possibility was enough to scare me shitless."

"Oh."

"It's a shitty world we live in, but you can't protect people forever. They learn. She knows that now… She knows the world is full of blood and shit and piss and whatever else. So sometimes she tries to make my decisions for me. Sometimes I let her. I mean, I don't mind when she tries to take care of me."

"Heavy," Craig murmurs.

"Yeah."

He's silent for a moment, but I can tell he's thoughtful.

"What is it?" I ask.

"If we didn't have this sort of friends-with-benefits thing, would you still hang around me?"

"Craig, I'd still want to be your friend, even if we didn't have the kind of relationship that we do," I assure him.

"I see."

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know."

"Well," I shrug, "It doesn't matter."

"Why didn't you try and screw around with Kyle before?"

"I don't know," I say again. "Kyle is Kyle… It would be so fucking weird. I've known him since we were babies and to start that kind of relationship with him would probably change our friendship dramatically."

"You think?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I didn't want to take that chance."

Craig just nods along to what I tell him.

"You're different," I note.

"How so?"

"You talk a little more now. I mean, I would definitely not call you affectionate, but you're not as distant as I once thought you were. You're a little more open… to me, at least."

"I don't usually like touching," Craig admits. "I never have. People think that makes me cold… and maybe I am cold, but I can't help it. It's just the way I am."

"I know, Craig. It's not a bad thing."

"I think that if they're so quick to judge, that makes them the cold ones."

"Yeah…" I say. "Is there any particular reason why you don't like touching?"

"No. Some people just aren't fond of it," he says, pausing, "but when I was fifteen, one of my dad's friends but his hand on my thigh and touched my crotch."

"Ew," I cringe. "Sorry that happened…"

"That's life, I guess," he shrugs it off. "The bastard was so drunk, I doubt he even knew I was a teenaged boy. He probably mistook me for his wife."

"No, dude," I say. "That shit shouldn't happen. Did you tell your parents?"

"No. They wouldn't have believed me." He lightly shrugs his shoulders. "Sometimes there's no justice."

I let out a sigh. "When I was a kid, my scout leader took naked pictures of me."

"Disgusting…"

"Yeah," I say. "He got arrested, fortunately. In a sad and awful way, it was funny… Our parents got our old scout leader fired because he was gay. They were scared he was going to make us all gay, too. They didn't want us to have a gay role model. They wanted us to be boyish boys. The creep ended up being a straight, military type."

Craig frowns. "Do you ever think about it?"

"Honestly? No," I admit.

"How?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "I guess I've experienced so much messed up, violent shit, that this doesn't even make the top ten."

"Oh."

I guess it's different for Craig. Craig's life thus far has been far less exciting than mine. He likes it that way. Nice and boring. "Either way," I shrug, "I think it was a hard lesson learned for our parents."

"Yeah…"

"You can't be judgemental," I continue.

"Yeah," he says again. "I know."

"You know how I slept with a teacher?" I mention.

"Yes."

I let out a sigh. "It was… Well, I didn't initiate it. She did. She told me I was failing and I started freaking out. She propositioned me and I mean… What else was I supposed to do? I was trapped. It's not like anyone would have believed me if I went to the principal. With my track record… they would probably suspend me for making up a lie like that. I was fucked either way, so I accepted the easy way out."

"Kenny?" he says my first name.

I shake my head. "Let me finish… Please?"

"Fine."

"So, it happened. It only happened once and she raised my grade from an F to an A, but still… God, I couldn't even look at her after that. I began ditching again and Kyle did most of my assignments for me. Apparently something like this happened to Ike before," I clear my throat. "Just because she was pretty, it didn't change the fact that she was a teacher. Honestly, that is such a turn off for me. When I think of teachers… I think of people like Ms. Choksondik and Mr. Garrison. Not cool."

"So… she –"

"Don't," I laugh.

"Don't what?"

"I know what you were going to say. It wasn't like that. It was my choice."

"You hardly had a choice…" he says. "Don't you want justice? What she did is illegal."

"You were right. Sometimes, there isn't justice."

"Yeah… Sorry."

I just smile. I feel like it's the first time he's said that to me. It feels good to be honest with him. "Don't worry about it," I say. "Now, enough of the sad stuff."

He stares at me for a moment before moving forward and pressing his lips to mine in a brief, yet tender manner. "That all I get?" I ask jokingly before pulling him into another kiss, catching his bottom lip between my teeth. He lets out a soft and quiet moan as my hand slips beneath his shirt. "Is this okay?" I pause before going any further.

"Of course," he says.

I reach for the top of his t-shirt before tugging it below his shoulder and moving my lips to brush against his neck. I hear his breath hitch as I bite down, determined to make a mark.

"We should go upstairs," he whispers, voice strained. "My mom'd smack me if we stained this sofa."

"Okay," I say, kissing the bite mark before drawing back.

He stands up and makes his way up the stairs. I follow after him and eagerly begin to undress once the door is shut. Craig does the same before lying on the bed. I kneel between his legs, staring down at him. He can't hide when we're seeing eye-to-eye like this. He's completely exposed.

I let out a long moan as I slowly bury myself into the familiar, inviting heat, watching Craig the entire time.

* * *

I fuck him hard because he asks me to. He falls asleep afterward, and I feel inspired. I throw on my clothing and quietly wander downstairs to fetch my sketchbook from my bag.

When I return upstairs, I sit on Craig's bed and open to a new page, touching the pencil to the paper.

He's lying on his side. His hair is messy. It's usually fairly tidy, but right now it's stuck up at odd angles. Bed hair… or, 'I just got laid' hair. I can see that little bird on his shoulder, and after spending so much time with him I'm beginning to get why he wanted it there. I'm beginning to understand what it means to him. Freedom. Freedom is something we're all seeking. I guess Craig is no different. He's human. Just like me. Just like every other sad fucking soul on this shitty planet. I think I'm beginning to see the softer side of Craig Tucker. Maybe that makes me special.

I stare down at him. His lips are parted as quiet, even breaths escape. He'd probably think I was fucking creepy as shit if he caught me staring at him like this, but God, he looks perfect, even with the scars… I guess this is my idea of perfection. Funny, I suppose perfection _does_ exist. Perhaps Craig was right about that.

This picture is going to be perfect, too. I've never really drawn a portrait before, and I want Craig to be my first.

He remains asleep and unmoving for a while before finally stirring. I glance at the digital clock on his nightstand before setting my sketchbook down.

It's 6:33 PM.

"Craig?" I whisper.

Slowly he opens his eyes and carefully, he sits up.

"Did I hurt you?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he shrugs apathetically. "I asked for it, remember?"

"Why, though?"

"You know," he says tartly, "it's possible that I just like it a bit rough."

"Well, vanilla _is_ a boring flavour," I smirk. Vanilla sex is even worse.

He rolls his eyes at me.

"Really, though, you're full of surprises," I chuckle, leaning forward and pecking him on the lips. I like that he's finally comfortable enough to tell me what he wants. "I drew something while you were asleep."

"Did you?" he asks, not sounding at all interested.

Nonetheless, I nod, reaching forward and grabbing my sketchbook off the nightstand. "One sec, lemme find it," I murmur, flipping to my most recent page. Once I find the picture, I hold it up for Craig to see. He stares at it for what feels like a long time, not saying a word. Maybe he doesn't like it…? "Well, what do you think?" I ask. "It's you."

"I don't look like this," he says.

"Yes, you do," I snort. "You look exactly like this. It's a pretty good drawing, if I do say so myself. This is probably the best thing I've ever drawn."

He takes the sketchbook from me and stares down at the paper. "Do I really look like this?" he asks airily.

"Yeah, you do."

"I like it…" he says quietly. "Can I keep it?"

"Of course," I smile, taking the sketchbook back and carefully ripping the page out of the coils. "Here," I stand it to him.

He takes it, staring at it again. "I'll put it somewhere," he says.

"Cool," I grin.

* * *

"Nice hickey, fag," Eric snorts at Craig the following day. "Present from the poor boy, I'm assuming?"

"Shut up," I hiss at him.

Craig doesn't say a word. He just lifts up his hand and raises his middle finger, giving Eric a big FUCK YOU.


	9. A confession

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks, as always :) hope everyone had a fun new year. **

* * *

The weeks continue to go by. I feel like everything is in a constant state. Things keep repeating. Craig and I continue to fuck. Eric continues to be a huge asshole. I'm getting straight D's in my classes and I continue to whine about every little thing to Kyle, who continues to try and help.

"Hey, Mrs. M," Craig says after we pile through the door after class.

"Hi, Craig," she greets. "How are you?"

"I'm all right. How are you?"

"I'm good," she smiles.

I usher him upstairs and to my room, where almost immediately I begin to feel him up. "I don't want to," he says, rebuffing my advances.

"Why not?" I ask, backing off.

"I feel like it's all we do lately…"

I shrug my shoulders. "Well, that was the agreement. No strings attached. Right?" Craig lets out a soft sigh and takes a seat on my mattress. I sit down next to him and ask, "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to do this anymore," he states.

"Do what?"

"Have sex with you," he specifies.

This is where I begin the interrogation. "Why?" I ask suspiciously. "Did you meet someone else?"

"No."

"Then why?"

He stares at the floor. "How long has it been since we started doing this?"

"A month and a half?" I guess.

"That long…" he murmurs quietly.

"Hey, what's going on?" I cross my arms.

He shakes his head, sighing lightly. "The agreement was no strings attached… easier said than done."

"What do you mean?"

He closes his eyes and rubs both hands down his melancholy expression. He looks like he is having a hard time getting the words out. "I don't want to do this anymore," he finally starts, "because I want something more and I know you can't give that to me." His voice is soft and quiet, as if he's worried I'll get angry at him for not being able to keep up his end of the bargain.

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. Just a long, "Uhh…" I'm honestly taken aback.

He opens his eyes and turns his head to the side to look at me. "If we keep doing this," he continues, "it won't be fair to me. It will only hurt and that is a kind of pain I'm not fond of." His eyes are glassy and his face is flushed. He looks like he might start crying any second, but I know he isn't going to. He won't let himself. He'll probably wait until he's alone and safe in his room. I can't help but wonder if he looked like this when he confessed to Clyde, too.

"Oh," is all I can muster. The word comes out in a deadpan.

"Yeah…" he mumbles.

"When did you start to feel like that?" I ask.

"A while ago," he admits quietly.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "I don't know how to respond."

"Whatever," he shrugs. "I'm not asking for anything else from you. I just had to say it."

"Sorry, Craig," I say again.

He shakes his head. "Don't… Don't apologize."

I sigh quietly.

"I'll let myself out," he says, standing up.

I just nod, unsure of what else to say. I watch him open the door and leave my room. I feel like I got exactly what I was asking for without even asking for it. I got exactly what I wanted without knowing I really wanted it. Now I just need to reach forward and take it… I know I should run after him but I can't bring myself to move.

Jesus fucking Christ.

* * *

When I'm finally able to leave my room, I go upstairs to find my mom. "Ma?" I say.

"What is it?" she asks. She's smoking a joint yet again. As long as she isn't shooting meth, I don't care. "Your friend left pretty early and in quite a hurry."

"Yeah," I start. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, actually." I sit down next to her, staring everywhere but in her direction. "I have a hypothetical situation."

"Okay, let's have it." She looks mildly humored, as if she knows exactly what I'm about to bring up.

"Okay," I clear my throat. "What would you do… if I wasn't completely straight?"

"Well," she starts, handing me the joint, "I'd say as long as you're happy, it's fine. That's what really matters, right?"

"Really?" I ask in a stifled voice, inhaling and holding the smoke in before exhaling.

"Of course," she says, taking the joint back.

So, maybe Kyle and Craig aren't the only guys around here who are less than straight. I've given it a little thought after Craig's confession and it would make sense. It's probably why I'm so selfish when it comes to him. "Okay," I pause, "maybe I am a little gay."

She lets out a soft laugh. "I know, baby."

"How?" I can't help but ask.

"Kenny, you're my son and I'm your mother," she says simply. "I just know these things."

"Oh," I mumble. I thought I knew myself. I guess not. I guess we're always learning new things about who we are. It's a never-ending process. I lay my head on her shoulder and she runs her fingers through my hair, still smoking that joint. "Will Dad be mad?" I wonder aloud.

"Who cares what that drunk asshole thinks?" she snorts.

"Me," I admit.

She doesn't say anything for a moment, but I have a feeling she's smiling. Not a mocking or cruel smile, but a sad sort of smile. "I know, baby," she says softly. "He won't be mad." She's only telling me what she thinks I need to hear. I guess I have daddy issues. "Your father loves you," she continues. "That won't change. He's just an angry, bitter man. That's why he drinks, and the drinking makes it worse. He doesn't mean to do the things he does."

"Yeah," I say, sighing. I guess that's why he always says he's sorry when he's violent.

I hear Karen coming downstairs a minute later, careful and quiet as she takes each step. "Kenny?" she asks once reaching the bottom.

"Karen," I say, sitting up straight.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," I tell her.

"You're lying," she calls me out. "You look worried."

"Nah, I'm just being dramatic, Karen," I say. Though I _am_ worried. I wonder if this is how Craig felt. If so, I definitely get why he got so damn upset. It shouldn't be a big deal… but sadly it is.

* * *

When my dad gets home, he's drunk and I'm scared. My mom picks a fight and Karen runs upstairs. I'm praying to God that she won't bring it up. I should be the one to tell him, and definitely not when he's like this. That would only make his reaction worse.

"STOP FIGHTING!" I scream as loud as I can. I can feel my heart beating faster and faster. I'm sick of this. So damn sick of it.

"Kenny?" my mom questions.

"Mind your own business, boy," my dad slurs his warning.

"It's a little hard to do that when you guys keep fighting all the fucking time!" I shout, only to be backhanded across the face and knocked into a table. I expected that to happen.

"Don't hit your fuckin' son!" my mom shouts, clawing at his face.

He pushes her away. "Christ, woman. Calm down!" He won't hit her. He rarely does. I'm the only one he smacks around. Kevin, too, but he isn't around much these days. Now I'm the only boy.

I run upstairs, where Karen is standing at the top. "Are you okay?" she asks.

"My arm kinda hurts," I admit, rubbing it.

"What happened?" she asks quietly, as if she's worried she'll be heard.

"Dad knocked me into a table," I say dryly. It's so not the first time this kind of thing has happened and it certainly won't be the last, we both know that.

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head.

"It's no big deal," I insist. I put a hand on her head and force a smile before turning away. I walk into my room and close the door behind me. I take off my jeans and sweater, throwing on a pair of plaid PJ pants and a long-sleeved shirt. I begin pacing, unsure of where to go from here. A few minutes later, between my pacing, my father walks in. He's still drunk.

"Dad?" I say quietly, unable to speak louder. He doesn't say a word. Instead, he reaches forward and grabs my wrist, pulling up my shirt sleeve. "Dad?" I repeat.

"I did this," he finally states, eyeing the red mark. It'll be a bruise come morning and probably a pretty damn colorful one.

"It's okay," I whisper, trying to stay calm and even-voiced as his grip tightens to a painful extent.

"Is it?" he wonders.

I nod and he finally lets go of me. "I've been hurt worse," I choose my words carefully, refusing to say I've been hurt worse by _him_.

"What did you want to say?" he asks. "Your mother said you had something to tell me."

"I…I'm…" I trail off, unsure how to say it and unsure I want to at a time like this.

"Spit it out," he demands.

"I was with a boy," I vaguely tell him.

Dad closes his eyes, letting out a breath. He looks disappointed. "So, you're a queer?"

"No…" I pause. "I don't know what I am anymore."

"Who was it?" he asks.

"Craig Tucker…" I say, afraid to give the name, but even more afraid to ignore the question.

"You're scared," he points out. I guess I'm not doing a good job of hiding it.

"No, I'm not," I insist.

"Don't lie to me."

"Are you mad?" I ask, trying to keep my tone even.

"You're my son," is all he says. His voice sounds terse and hard, as if he is angry on top of being disappointed.

"Are you mad?" I ask again, sounding like I'm about to fuckin' cry.

"Only at myself," he mumbles before leaving my room.

But I don't know what he means by that. I put a hand on my chest, swallowing a sob and feeling like I might choke on each breath I take in. Karen enters into the room a minute later and wraps her arms around my midsection. She is silent, but I can tell she's trying to make me feel better. Sometimes there are no words.

"I keep fucking up," I hiss, feeling my eyes grow wet. "God, what the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Karen insists. "I think he's sad he hurt you," she says softly. "He doesn't want you to grow to accept abuse from people."

"I don't…" I say mechanically, wiping my cheeks off. "I'm fine."

"You're not," she sighs, "and that's okay."

"Is it?" I can't help but wonder.

"Yeah," she insists. "Because you will be." And I think she's trying to convince the both of us of that. "So, you and Craig?" She changes the subject after letting go of me and smiles a small smile.

"You were listening."

"Sorry," she laughs quietly. "Do you like him?"

"I think I do." I like him even more because of his flaws and all the reasons other people _don't_ like him. It's like… once you push past them; you get to see Craig for who he really is – not the guy you see at school and not the guy who's busy carelessly flipping everyone off. You get to see Craig for Craig – the guy he is when he's all alone. You get to see what makes him tick, the things he likes, the things he dislikes, his fears… You get to see what makes him smile and what makes him cry.

Karen smiles. "Ruby doesn't like you, but that's just because she doesn't know you."

"She's made it perfectly clear she hates me," I say tartly.

"She's brash and kind of rude," Karen laughs fondly. "She's like Craig, but in a louder way."

"Yeah, you said that before."

She nods. "She wants the best for Craig."

"And, to her, I'm not the best. I'm probably the worst."

"She's wrong. She just doesn't know you," Karen says once more.

"No, she's right," I correct. "Before I sauntered into Craig's pants, he was as pure as a fuckin' rainbow."

Karen lets out a laugh, "Okay, TMI."

"Sorry," I chuckle.

"I think you're both good for each other."

"I know you do," I say, recalling what she said to me a while back. She thinks Craig and I can learn things from each other. I don't know about that. I shake it off for now, growing tired. I roll onto my mattress, yawning. "I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight," Karen smiles, standing up to leave.

"G'night."


	10. Life is good

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Big thanks to everyone who reviewed this :) enjoy the final chapter!**

* * *

I stay home the following day, dismissing school for the time being. I have more important things on my mind than academics. Though, Kyle would flay me for even thinking it. I spend most of the day thinking about things and around five, I finally decide to text Craig.

YOU: _are you homo?_

Snickering at my most frequent typo, I wait for his reply –

CRAIG: _What._

YOU: _duh i meant home!_

CRAIG: _Yes, I'm home… I'm also a homo._

YOU: _HAHA ok im gonna come over_

CRAIG: _Fine._

I pocket my phone, laughing at the fact that he humoured my accidental joke. I grab my parka and put on my boots before stepping outside. I run to Craig's house and by the time I reach his doorstep, I'm panting. I collect myself before ringing the bell. A moment later, the door swings open and Ruby is standing there. "What do _you_ want?" she asks, crossing her arms. She's mean muggin'.

"I'm here to see Craig," I tell her. The answer is obvious by now, but I think she just wants a reason to give me attitude. Nonetheless, she lets me in, shutting the door after I slip inside. "Thanks," I murmur, making my way upstairs. I kind of wish Ruby didn't hate me so damn much. I'm not a bad person.

"Your sister seriously hates me," I mumble after stepping into Craig's room. He's sitting on his bed with his laptop placed in front of them. When he spots me, he closes it and sets it on the floor.

"She hates a lot of people," he says. "You're not special."

I don't reply. Somehow, knowing that doesn't exactly make me feel better. "Uh," I pause awkwardly, letting my gaze wander around the room. I notice the picture I drew of Craig hanging up on the wall near his dresser. If I wasn't feeling so anxious, I might smile at that.

"Well, what is it?" he asks impatiently.

"You're into me," I bring up.

"Yeah," is all he says.

"I didn't really know what to say," I admit. I'm not really used to confession. I'm used to flings.

"I gathered that," Craig murmurs.

"I was surprised you told me," I continue. I half expected him to remain silent and keep it to himself.

He shrugs. "If you don't ask, you'll never know for sure. You'll just end up making up the other part of the conversation and believing it."

"I guess so."

"It'll make you fucking miserable," he finishes the thought.

"Yeah," I say quietly. He's probably right about that.

"So, what did you want?" he asks.

"I have a hypothetical question," I start slowly.

He crosses his arms. "Shoot, then."

"If you have feelings for someone, and it's mutual, but you know being together will cause problems… What do you do?"

"You make it work," he states without hesitation.

"But if you really care about someone… if you love them or whatever, it doesn't mean you should be with them. You should know when to end things. Sometimes it's better that way – it's better both people."

"No. If you _love_ someone, you make it work," he reiterates.

"There are times when you need to hurt someone to help them in the long run."

He corners of his mouth quirk upward and he lets out a soft, quiet laugh. Yes, that's right. Craig Tucker just laughed. "Stop feeding me this all-knowing bullshit," he says, amused. "Just say what you want to say."

"We don't always get along… Sometimes you're a fucking asshole to me, and I'm the same way to you… But if you want… let's try this. I'm not saying I love you. I don't, at least, not yet… but someday I think I will."

"I thought you were straight," he questions.

I just shrug. "So did I, but I gave it some thought."

"Our relationship was based on sex…" he starts. "That's all it was. It was sex. That's the only reason you want to be with me… Shit, if I didn't let you fuck me, you wouldn't want me."

"That's not true," I insist.

I guess that, somehow, though it all, I fell for him. It's weird how things work out.

"Let's try this," I say again.

"You really want to?" he asks.

I nod, "I do."

"All right," he sighs, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

"Cool," I grin. Things are starting to look up.

* * *

And that's that. The following day, me and the guys walk to school and I decide now would be the right time to tell them who I'm currently seeing. Well, I'm sure it won't be a surprise to Kyle or Eric, but Stan has never been all that keen at knowing what's going on in the lives of others. He is pleasantly oblivious and blissfully ignorant when it comes to most things, God love 'im.

"Guys," I start. "I want to tell you all something."

"What is it?" Stan asks. Kyle turns my way expectantly while Eric just stares ahead with an unreadable expression.

"Is it that you're gay?" Eric cuts in. I'm not sure if he's being serious or if he's just being a dick.

"No," I give him a pointed stare, "but I _am_ dating Craig Tucker."

"What…?" Stan raises an eyebrow and his tone is blatantly distasteful. "Why…? He's a huge knob."

"He's a sociopath!" Eric adds.

"Coming from you, that means nothing, Eric… Besides, no, he's not," I say. "You don't know him."

"And _you_ do?" he asks, not quite believing it.

I smile fondly. "Yeah, I do."

"I didn't think Craig let people get to know him. He's socially retarded."

"Well, he does," I say. "It takes quite a lot, but it's worth it."

Eric wrinkles his nose at me. "I doubt that."

"Maybe we all need to calm down…" Stan suggests.

"God," I laugh, exasperated. "You guys are the ones sharpening fucking pitchforks and lighting fucking torches to chase him with! You don't know him… You can't judge him based on shit he did to us when we were kids, especially considering that we were ten times worse."

"I'm not saying anything," Kyle cuts in. "Personally, I don't mind Craig."

Stan lets out an audible sigh. "You're right," he says. "Sorry… if you're happy, then I'm happy."

"Jesus Christ, you're all fucking gay," Eric crosses his arms.

I just shake my head. "I'm not gay," I say for what feels like the millionth time. "I'm, uh… Kyle, what's the word?"

"Hetero-flexible?" he offers.

"Yeah, that," I nod.

Eric jut rolls his eyes. "Whatever," he says. "It's all the same gay shit to me."

I just shrug him off. I'm not going to let him ruin the way I feel – because I'm feeling pretty damn good.

"Since we're confessing things," Kyle cuts in, "I have something to confess as well." He smiles somewhat deviously.

"What's that?" Stan wonders.

"Don't –" Eric starts, only to be interrupted.

"Me and Eric are going together as well," Kyle says, laughing as if he just told the most hilarious joke.

I choke on my own spit and yell, "What?" Suddenly his incessant homophobia makes sense. I _knew_ he was trying to compensate for something.

Stan looks mortified and sickly. "Please tell me you're kidding…"

"KAHL!" Eric shrieks, covering Kyle's mouth with one of his meaty hands.

"You know what?" I sigh. "I'm not even shocked. Eric's greatest talent is overcompensation."

Kyle elbows Eric in his chubby gut and he finally lets go. "Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

"That was supposed to be a secret, Jew!" he growls.

"So, what?" Kyle sighs. "Secrets are overrated. Between friends, they shouldn't exist. Besides, now I won't have to force myself to remember to keep calling you by your last name anymore."

Eric's eyebrow twitches.

"What a plot twist," Stan says, shaking his head.

"Who bottoms?" I ask perversely. "Or do you guys like to switch things up?"

"Kahl!" Eric turns up his nose, insisting, "That much is obvious."

I just roll my eyes at his complex.

Aaand life goes on.

* * *

The school day goes by smoothly. I doubt anyone is going to pick a fight with me about who I choose to date. They know I won't hesitate to punch them in the face. I'm Krazy Kenny McCormick.

After class, Craig and I go to his place and fool around a bit. I'm beginning to learn that, though he acts tired, he's got quite a lot of stamina in the sack. I guess he's more comfortable now, and it shows.

"The other day you asked me if I was happy," I mention.

"Yeah."

"Are _you_ happy?" I ask.

"I guess so," he says. "I'm content. Unlike you, I don't try to figure out what that might mean. I just let things sit."

"That's good…" I whisper, staring down at his bare stomach.

"Don't," he mumbles uncomfortably. "You'll make me upset."

I lightly brush my hand over the flat plane of his pale abdomen – over the old scars and the new ones, over the ones that are fading and the ones that are still healing. "Please, stop," I say, though I know it isn't fair of me to ask a thing like that.

"Sometimes I try…" he admits in a murmur, "but then I get so angry… It's anger, not sadness. I'm not sad. I've never really been sad."

"Oh," I say softly, glad to know at least that much.

"I don't know what else to do when I feel that way," he adds.

I nod sympathetically. "That's why you shouldn't bottle things up the way you do. When you do that, you just get out of control when it all comes out, you know? Come to me instead. I mean, it's good to have an outlet if you don't want to just let loose the way Kyle does." Kyle can be fucking crazy.

Craig rolls his eyes at me and I just smile. I lean down and kiss his stomach before settling next to him.

"I thought you said you hated romance," he murmurs.

"I do," I shrug. "It's all a bunch of clichés and Valentine's Day crap."

"For someone who hates romance… you do some pretty romantic shit."

I chuckle, putting my arm around him. "I guess when you really like someone you can't help it," I say, pecking him on the cheek.

"Hm."

"Why do you cut your stomach?" I ask. "I mean… don't most people do it on their arms or legs?"

"I wanted to hide it," he sighs, probably irritated by all my questions. "I mean… I can't wear t-shirts if I've got that shit on my arms. I can't wear the required shorts in fucking gym class with them all down my legs."

"I guess so…"

"Besides, it hurts more this way."

"Oh," I say softly. I've been beat, cut and bruised enough times to know that the stomach is a pretty sensitive spot.

"Anyway," he says, wanting to change the subject. It's okay. I'm glad he willingly told me that much. From here, it will only get better.

"Yes, anyway," I repeat him. "Where do you think you'll be next year?"

"More school."

"Will you be in Denver?"

"Yeah."

"Good," I say. "That's close."

"What about you?" he asks.

I wrinkle my nose. "Fuck school. I'll just work and I'll come see you on your free time."

"You're gay," he says lightly.

"Only for you, babe," I wink.

He rolls his eyes at me, but there's a small smile on his lips. It's funny, I once thought Craig never laughed, cried, or apologized. I've learned that that's not true. He does all those things and he's done them in front of me, so maybe that means something. I like to think it does. Maybe it means something that I've been able to push past his exterior and come face to face with the real Craig Tucker.

I just smile in return, pulling him closer. "Mine."

"Yours," he groggily agrees.

Sure, we've still got things to sort through... but we'll be okay.

* * *

On my way out of the Tucker house, I give Craig's parents a sheepish smile. They return the glance with ones of mild humour. They know exactly what I've been up to with their son. I guess it's better that way. Kyle was right when he said there are times when secrets shouldn't exist. They are a bitch to keep, especially when it comes to family.

Craig and I exit the house and he walks with me to the end of the driveway. "Your parents don't seem to mind," I say. It's a relief.

"Yeah, they're getting used to it," he murmurs. "Soon enough they'll want to have you over for dinner."

"Scary," I snicker.

"Right?" he smiles slightly.

I lean forward and kiss him. We tongue for a few minutes, no longer caring if people see. Fuck 'em. I pull him close, soaking him up and he does the same.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask expectantly.

"Tomorrow," he agrees with a nod.

I kiss him once more, smiling before we part ways.

Life is good.

**Fin.**


End file.
